


Paws for Christmas

by KathGrau



Series: Paws [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Creature Inheritance, First Time, M/M, Slash, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6954988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathGrau/pseuds/KathGrau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs gets a hero's reward, no matter if he wants it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 Advent Calendar. I used one of the premises of generale_kenobi's Companion series, with her permission: the President rewarding Gibbs; and spun my own story. Big thanks to riazendira the_proofreader and mercurial_gem for beta work and cheerleading. I'm kind of ashamed that I needed so much support, but this fic nearly ate my mind. I took some additional liberties with canon, DADT is non-existant in my AU, for example.
> 
> Reposted from my (inactive) LJ.

Prologue:

August 21th 2004

 

Gibbs turned off the loud noise - he refused to call it music - and got behind his favorite forensic scientist. She was so fascinated by whatever she was working on that she didn't even react to the sudden silence. “What d'ya got, Abs?” 

The Goth turned around so fast that only a fast sidestep rescued the team leader's face from being lashed with her pig tails. “Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, this is so fascinating!”

“What's fascinating, Abs, and how does it help my case?”

Abby was practically vibrating, a sign of too many Caf-Pows in too little time. “Whoever died in that car, it was not your Sergeant,” she proclaimed and folded her arms in front of her chest, waiting for his reaction.

“I knew that already, Abs. We found a mountain lion that looked like it had been run over by a car in that truck, not a human body, and you already told me that the blood on the clothes we found on the back seat wasn't human, either.” Gibbs feigned impatience and acted as if he would storm out of her lab any second; it was how their game went, and, as long as she didn't take too much of his time, he was willing to indulge her.

The working theory at the moment was that their missing sergeant had killed the beast by accident- damaging his car in the process- and taken the cadaver with him to avoid notice; after the car later gave up the ghost, he'd fled on foot. And now they had to find him.

“Yes, yes! Buuuuut-” she turned around, hitting one of the buttons on her keyboard, and the picture on her screen changed to one of an amplified image of a hair. “That is real mountain lion hair.”

Now this was getting tedious. “Abs.”

“Gibbs, don't tell me you don't know about Felines?” Abby pouted, disappointed at his ignorance. Nice of her to believe in him so fully, but he was not all knowing.

Well, he did know about their existence in general: humans that could shift into cat forms like some real life werewolves, but until this moment it had never come up in practice. His granny had told him legends about talking cats that lured weak-minded spouses into the forest where they would never be seen again, along with other fairy tales. Little Jethro's favorite had been about a panther guardian who only appeared when something bad happened down in the Stillwater mines. Shadow Whisperer would melt with the dark, go places where no human could go and lead the miners out to safety, sometimes he would appear as panther, sometimes, in the form of a human with black fur. He was said to shift fallen rocks and whisper reassurances to the injured miners, waiting with them until the rescuers arrived, and, before anyone could get a real look at him, he would disappear in the shadows that had given him his name.

But those were old wives tales. Real Felines? The issue hadn't pinged on their radar at all with this case until now. “In theory. Abs, you're saying that the animal cadaver in Ducky's lab is NOT a Feline. So?”

“But someone who didn't know enough about it to manage a good fake tried to make it look like we found our missing Sergeant, and wanted us to believe that he had: a) morphed, and b) was dead, so nobody would come looking for him. They shredded the clothes- which is not so wrong, because if he had changed in them they would be torn- but smeared some human blood on the garments; and that's just totally wrong. Felines morph without bleeding, and are, genetically, not even near real felines, so I can rule out that poor cat.” Abby beamed at him.

“Great. And now? How does that help me find my Sergeant?”

“It helps you because I found his hidey-hole; where he did his research on Felines. There aren't many places where you can learn about them, you know. They belong to the White House, traditionally- and those guys are very stingy with information. I've got more access because of my clearance, but normal people.... not so much. It's all hush-hush and there's this huge conspiracy theory floating around. I traced back who got nosy about them- along with what information they got- and voilà; here's your address. He's even online right now.” She held out a sheet of paper and her cheek, which he kissed softly.

“Thanks, Abs.” he said, and hurried away.

“This is really fascinating stuff!” He heard her call after him. He guessed that, for the next few days, he would be regaled with a wide variety of facts he would never need about Felines.

 

Step 1: Wait

Dec 6th 2004

 

“Special Agent Gibbs, this is the second time you have directly and personally saved the life of the President of the United States. We want to reward you for your services above and beyond the call of duty.”

The recipient of this speech was standing at parade rest in front of the big desk in the Oval Office, his expression as bland and attentive as he could make it. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, former Marine sniper and self proclaimed all-round bastard generally had no patience for political posturing but even he could hardly ignore a summons to the White House, no matter how much he wanted to. Especially when his new Director backed up the order. Tom Morrow would have helped him formulate a polite response and then sent him on an important (and immediate) mission to some far away base, but Jen Sheppard had been only too eager to force him to play nice. She graciously accompanied him to this meeting, partly so she could make sure that he actually arrived when and where he should, and partly because she wanted to make a personal appearance. A big, public commendation ceremony with one of her agents front and center would be quite a feather in her cap, no matter that the 'heroic deed' had happened under her predecessor.

The Secretary of the Navy, Edward Sheffield, was droning on about honor and dedication and whatnot; Gibbs used the time to wonder about this meeting. There were some differences between this and the last dratted ceremony he had been forced to attend. Only four men and himself were in attendance. The President, his personal secretary, SecNav and a Marine Major in his dress blues. No PR staff, no cameras. This scenario was a far cry from the pomp Sheppard had probably dreamed about, especially since she wasn't even allowed in the room and had been politely asked to wait outside.

Sudden silence made him concentrate on the matter at hand, instead of the indignant consternation of Jen Sheppard when the door had closed in her face. The expectant expressions on the people around him clued him in that they wanted him to quit his stoic tin soldier routine and say something.   
“It is my honor and duty to serve.” There, that was harmless, true enough, and should satisfy them. Brass rarely ever wanted to know his honest opinion about something.

President Hayes smiled his bright, political smile and nodded approvingly, then he motioned the Major to do his part. “Major Williams will explain everything to you, feel free to ask him if something is not clear. I hope you will enjoy your reward.”

The major looked like the living model of a paper cut-out advert for the Marines. Tall, muscled, with a crew cut and an expressionless face. Gibbs approved, but his puzzlement was growing exponentially. This wasn't like the usual ceremonies where someone did a big speech and afterward pressed a new shiny medal on his chest. Well, the jeweler’s case the major had retrieved from his travel bag would fit the bill, but the thick file that accompanied it didn't.

Williams put down the file in front of the agent, aligning it meticulously so it was exactly parallel to the lines of the desk. “These are the papers for your Feline companion. We have already filled out nearly every pertinent detail; we just need to add the serial number of your chosen Feline and you have to sign in the specified places. Please make sure to read the restriction clauses and the abuse of privileges list carefully before signing.”

“What the fuck?!?” Gibbs was so flabbergasted the words escaped his mouth without any censoring input from his brain to curtail them. His eyes went comically round before they narrowed to angry slits. He shouldn't have used foul language, but this had better be a very bad joke. His icy stare darted from one men to the other, gauging their reactions, and finally came to rest on the President's face. The man looked faintly amused, not offended.

SecNav, on the other hand, was anything but amused. He cleared his throat and shot his best, but most aggravating, agent a censoring glare. The look in his eyes promised the silver haired agent a posting at McMurdo in the Antarctic until retirement if he didn't hold his tongue. “Mr. President, you have to forgive Special Agent Gibbs, this is a huge honor and it stunned him.”

Hayes tipped his head. “Stunned? I would say he looks… pissed.”

And why shouldn't he be? The thought of owning a living, sentient and intelligent being was repugnant to him. No matter what some scientists said, just because someone had fur in addition to hair didn't make them non-human. “Mr. President, I have to politely decline this… honor. I have neither the time, nor the inclination to fit someone into my life at the moment and-”

“Gibbs!” Sheffield tried to interrupt him.

“-and I don't approve-”

“GIBBS!”

Yep, the agent could feel the antarctic ice closing in on him, but at least he would be alone in his frosty exile.

Hayes interrupted them both. “Gentlemen, stop. Before this gets any more awkward. Please leave the room and let me speak to Special Agent Gibbs alone.”

The other three men exchanged surprised looks, but they left the office swiftly.

“Please, sit down.” The President waited for Gibbs to follow his order and steepled his fingers. “Let's not beat around the bush. Your tone of voice is way past the border of insulting, but your refusing this reward doesn't come as a surprise- given your reputation.”

Gibbs had relaxed a bit, his shoulders gotten less stiff. He was all for quitting talking in circles but normally, whenever a politician deigned to use a phrase like 'stop beating around the bush', the BS that followed would be of gigantic proportions and stink to high heaven.

Hayes smiled and the wrinkles around his dark eyes deepened. “I value my life- very much so-and I want to reward you for saving it. Detecting and eliminating that sniper was exceptional work. Another medal would just not cut it in my eyes. My Secret Service people researched your background quite thoroughly at my order.”

Another expletive got ruthlessly shoved down before it could escape. Once might be forgiven, but now he couldn't cite surprise.

“You seem to constantly be searching for a long term companion, judging by your four marriages and the fact that it was never you who broke it off. It's not hard to see that the tragic way you lost your first family had an impact. Your dedication to your job and, forgive me for saying so, difficult disposition are not conducive to achieving the white picket fence dream.”

Any other man would have had his head bitten off by now before being told where to stick his research and opinions, but in this case Gibbs had to swallow his anger. Punching the Leader of the Free World was out, no matter how good it would feel. The agent didn't know what offended him more-the fact that they had dug into his past or the assumption that the only way he would be able to keep someone in his life was when the other party had no freedom to leave.

His thoughts wandered to his house; his, he would freely admit, very dark, very lonely house. Darker and lonelier especially this time of the year. All the other houses on his street sported festive decorations and blinking lights, more or less clumsily built snow men, and forgotten shovels and plastic toys. Gibbs sole contribution to the mad decorating and cheerful chaos of the holiday season going on around him was a wrought iron lantern with a thick candle inside which he kept lit. But all this stark minimalism was by choice, not desperation.

“Mr. President-”

“No, let me ask you some questions. I have another reason for selecting this kind of reward. Do you know much about Felines?”

And here he had thought that Abby's research wouldn't be useful. At least this wasn't about his personal life anymore. “Not much, just what is publicly available. They are the result of a mutation of the human genome. Very rare and not visible or significant as long as it does not activate. Extreme stress seems to be an activator. They first appeared after the plague decimated Europe. Scientists speculated that it was a reaction. Like the mutations that can be traced back to the Influenza, just more dramatic.” Gibbs shrugged his shoulders. “And they are, by decree, all property of the governments of their birth countries, most often directly tied to the Head of States.”

Hayes nodded. All good humor had left his face. “All true. It was, surprisingly, Abraham Lincoln who added and anchored that decree in the Constitution. You have to keep in mind the societal background and the time. The middle ages aren't called the dark ages for nothing, and the first communities on American soil weren't much better. People who sprouted tails and fur were seen as exotic freaks at best and demonic creatures that must be burned at worst. Making them property of the White House was in a way better than having them end up as attractions in freak shows or being hunted to death.” The President leaned forward and stretched his left hand, turning it this way and that way, staring down at his chocolate brown skin and then hard into Gibbs' eyes.

“Times have changed. I find any sort of slavery personally offensive but I am unable to directly abolish that rule. What I was able to do was tweak it: there is no longer a reward out there for handing over people who have that kind of genetic marker and forcing it to activate is punishable by life in prison now. That leaves, for the future, only those who mutate and activate naturally. Twelve adult Felines are currently residing in my... presidential Feline-Stables.” The last words were expelled with obvious distaste.

“Twelve Felines that need good homes and caring minders before my tenure is up. Most of them are quite intelligent and self-sufficient but due to the public perception about them being nothing more than sensual sex-slaves and living status symbols, they will never be able to live independently in our lifetime. You strike me as a honorable man who would never abuse anyone and who would always protect those who cannot defend themselves. Jethro Gibbs, that along with your stubborn nature and profession, make you an ideal candidate to keep a Feline safe and happy.” Hayes leaned back in his chair again. “Am I wrong?”

All that sounded very noble and wonderful, but it would not be the President who had to take responsibility for a complete stranger. Still, Gibbs could see that Hayes had made up his mind and wouldn't budge. “No, Mr President, as I said, it is my duty and honor to serve.”

“I hope that you will add enjoyment to this list in the future.” Hayes dryly commented and when he saw Gibbs bristling in anger he added: “Not suggestively meant, Gibbs, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

The President rose from his chair and circled his desk until he stood beside the agent. Then he picked up the jewelery case, embossed with the emblem of the White House, opened it and handed something to Gibbs. The item resembled the dog tags every soldier was familiar with, it even sported his engraved name, but instead of dull metal it was made of platinum. Gibbs flipped it. The back was blank.

“After you've chosen among them, your Feline's name and ID number will be added to the tag. Now please, Agent Gibbs, accept my token of gratitude and sign those papers. I have a meeting at three and I'm already going to be late.”

Gibbs' fingers closed convulsively around the little piece of precious metal that would proclaim him the owner of another human being, Feline or no. Next time he might be tempted to let the enemy sniper shoot. Well, of course not, but at the moment it was really tempting.

-.#-.


	2. Choose carefully

When he stepped outside the office door, the only people waiting for him were Major Williams and SecNav. There was no sign of his Director; it made him wonder what she had been told. Both men were immediately fixated on the file in his hands.

Williams held out his hand for the file and began to check that every dotted line sported the correct signature.

“God help me, Gibbs! One day soon you'll give me a heart attack!” Sheffield groaned and fumbled with his unlit cigar. “I told Director Sheppard what happened and sent her back to the office. Take as many days off as you need to, ah, acclimate to your new… circumstances.”

The agent looked strictly straight ahead. “Thank you for this consideration, but it isn't needed. It will be better to include this addition as soon as possible in my normal daily life.”

That response made his boss glare at him. “Sheppard and I agreed that you are allowed to bring the Feline to work as long as you keep control of it, just keep it out of crime scenes and by all that is holy, don't cause a diplomatic incident. Who knows, maybe this will loosen your bastard self up a bit.” And with those words he turned around and strode away, figuratively washing his hands of this situation. It was a good thing that he didn't bother to turn around or he would have had to discipline Gibbs for insubordination. The agent was nearly growling.

This was just an early example of the reactions he could expect to his owning a Feline. They all would think that he was happily fucking his furry sex slave every chance he got and he couldn't really avoid showing the Feline to people since he would have to take his new companion everywhere he went. Leaving them at home wasn't an option. Not only would that be cruel and unusual punishment, since Gibbs worked a lot and nobody deserved to be left alone for so long, he wouldn't be there to protect them either. That left constant companionship, unless there was a day care center for Felines somewhere, which Gibbs doubted very much. Hell, he wouldn't be able to stop the elevator to allow himself a minute of peace without someone snickering about him having a quickie.

“Special Agent Gibbs? I am the head supervisor of the Feline-Stables. Would you please follow me? My charges are waiting for us. Please feel free to ask me any question you want.” Major Williams politely led the brooding Gibbs down a hidden hallway and through various checkpoints before stopping in front of an ornately carved wooden double door. Some wannabe artist with more fantasy than taste had decorated it with the interwined forms of various jungle cats. Williams pushed the door open and what lay behind wasn't any better.

Gibbs had thought the door tasteless; that had been harmless in comparison to this travesty. If Hayes was as serious as he appeared about his save the Felines plan, he should re-decorate this room, pronto. With all its colorful silk pillows, draperies and thick oriental rugs, the room he was standing in looked like the ill-conceived cross between a bad romance writer's idea of a harem and an 18th century bordello. Chandeliers, huge mirrors and heavy curtains might have been added in the hope that they would give the illusion of hidden windows and space, but, to Gibbs, they just perfected the picture of a gilded cage.

The occupants of said cage had draped themselves decoratively across huge silken floor pillows. Other than Abby's persistent recent fascination with them, Gibbs had never paid much attention to Felines. He had only seen glimpses of them in full cat form on the TV screen at high society events. Government control of information about Felines had somehow translated socially into there being a taboo against Felines appearing at such events in their human form. Now, confronted with the reality of their nature and the need to chose among them, all he could do was stare.  
The individuals staring back at him resembled human males and females but with the addition of fur in varying degrees of intensity and color. The fact that all of them were naked just highlighted the differences and made it impossible to ignore those little extras. The light of the chandeliers gleamed on fur that covered sometimes whole limbs, sometimes only stripes of their bodies. On some, it was so short that it showed more like a pattern on skin than real fur, but on others it was so long, thick and fluffy that it would make a Persian cat proud. To Gibbs it seemed as if these human felines mimicked specific races of cats, with lions and cougars as the most prevalent species. But they had some other things in common among their group, not just fur.

All of them were draped as prettily as possible across their pillows, pillows which were clearly chosen to enhance or contrast the shades of their 'special features'. All of them were aesthetically pleasing. All of them wore metallic collars wound around their throats multiple times, and nothing else. And all of them were concentrating on him with eagerness in their slit-pupilled eyes.

All that blatant- and, in some male cases, shameless- rising interest made Gibbs nearly take a step backward. It was a relief when Williams redirected some of the intense attention away from him. “Felines, this is the man I told you about at breakfast. Please be polite and don't crowd him while he tries to get to know you so he can choose. I know that whoever has the honor of going home with Special Agent Gibbs will do their best to be his ideal companion.”

That provoked a “Yes, sir!” and then another round of 'devour the poor Agent with your eyes'. He knew that expression; it had featured prominently on two of his ex-wives faces and hadn't been any more honest then. If his suit, (which was of a good quality but not from one of those unpronounceable designers) along with his simple haircut gave them pause, they didn't show it. He tried to imagine any of these creatures sitting in his living room, and his imagination failed him. While fighting down his flight instinct (and cursing the President) Gibbs nearly missed a soft but deeply derisive snort coming from the shadows to his left.

The mad interior decorator had placed a door-less antique wardrobe in the dark corner beside the entrance. It was filled with various objects, but what made it interesting was not the inside but what was resting on top. The height of the piece of furniture and the lack of light up there made it hard to see clearly, but there was another Feline eyeing the newcomers from its vantage point; one in full cat form- a tiger. One of the dinner plate sized paws dangled lazily over the edge. Seeing intelligent awareness in the green eyes that stared back at him out of a tiger's beautiful face brought the realization home to Gibbs, like nothing else; how wrong, wrong, wrong it was that he was standing here like a kid in a toy store, allowed to chose a new puppet to play with, no matter how much he intended to treat his choice well.

But he couldn't refuse now.

Feline and man gave each other a very careful once over. The shadows concealed the rest of the big cat's figure, but Gibbs could make out a slowly swinging long tail down the far side of the wardrobe, parts of the upper body, and the shape of the full mane- not as full as a lions, but still more than what he remembered being normal for female tigers; this was most likely a male.

Williams confirmed this assumption by addressing the Feline with a male sounding name. “A'thon! Come down at once!”

All his shouting accomplished was that the tiger Feline closed his eyes and yawned, showcasing very sharp looking predator's teeth and, in contrast, an innocent looking curled, bright pink tongue.

“Agent Gibbs, I am sorry. You have to excuse him, A'thon is a special case.” The handler tried to explain before he took another step in direction of the wardrobe. He addressed the tiger again.“You've got your moment in the spotlight, now behave and join the others.”

A'thon gave a big, rumbling, put-upon sigh and, under Gibbs' thoughtful observation, stretched slowly before ambling down the side of the wardrobe. His claws scratched the polished wooden surface, causing the craftsman in Gibbs whimper in agitation to see a beautiful piece of wood being so carelessly abused. The tiger jumped the last bit and landed near the two watching men's feet, so near that they had to step back to avoid a collision. Going by the glittering green eyes and the disdainfully bristling whiskers, it was anything but an coincidental move.

“A little bit hard on the furniture, isn't he?” Gibbs couldn't help but comment.

“Only if he wants to be.” Williams answered. They both watched as the tiger Feline moved, positioning himself between them and the others while facing away from handler and agent, as if A'thon had dismissed them from his mind. The cool attitude spiel wasn't very convincing. The casual lick over a paw, the way the handsomely striped back was slanted, all of it was just too over the top. Gibbs saw how the big head turned in their direction just enough to check if they were still watching, and couldn't help but shake his own head in faint amusement.

Gibbs did a quick headcount and came up with twelve, including the tiger. “Why is he not in human form?”

A'thon abruptly stopped his shenanigans, heaved himself up, and strode away, his head held high, walking until he reached an empty pillow where he let himself fall down with more force than grace.

Williams sighed and then spoke just loud enough so his voice would carry to Gibbs, no further. “I told you, he is a special case. Sometimes things go wrong when the gene activates and a Feline has their Virgin Morph. It is very strenuous for the body and sometimes the heart gives out or... Felines can get stuck. I didn't witness it, I took over one year ago on President Haye's orders and A'thon was already part of the stable. It is such a waste.”

To be stuck in feline form when you were accustomed to two working thumbs, communicating with other humans and running around on two feet and so much else? Yeah, that was a little bit more than just a waste and the Major deserved the derisive grumble and hard stare Gibbs bestowed on him for that remark.

His non-verbal communication skills must have been as effective as usual, as Williams now sported a faint blush. He didn't raise his voice, but tried to defend himself. “I want what is best for these guys. I want them to have good homes and honest, benevolent owners; and A'thon... has been here for a very long time. If I am right in my calculations, he is in his mid thirties, and nobody has ever shown any serious interest in him. He knows it as well, look at him.”

The Feline in question was again showing them a cold shoulder, but this time there was nothing playful to be detected. The only indication that he was still paying attention were the black-tipped plushy ears that were turned in their direction.

“If I understood correctly, no matter what they look like, their thought process is as human as yours or mine?” Gibbs asked and observed the present Felines. His eyes lingered on one female with a ginger mane and matching fur. She smiled coyly at him, but all it did was make him wrinkle his forehead and direct his attention at another individual. It was not easy to judge their ages correctly, but most of them seemed to be in their early twenties.

“Yes, but that is not what matters to potential owners when they come to select a companion. They want a decorative, tame jungle cat for show and an exotic human body for... well.” Williams shrugged his shoulders.

“Fucking.” Gibbs completed the sentence, not bothering with delicate phrasing. Yeah, pussyfooting officers, he knew them well. “Good thing that I'm not interested in fucking someone who can't really afford to say no, fur or no fur, damn it!”

“That's not something I've heard before.” Williams murmured, some of the professional behavior giving way to frank appraisal and honest approval.

“Don't throw me into the same pot as your usual customers. Morons who deny these people their humanity, want to have sex with them despite- or maybe because of- that fact, and then get technical about bestiality just piss me off.” All this was nice and dandy, but even if his fellow marine seemed to agree with him, it didn't alter the fact of why they both were here. “Now what?”

Williams changed gears again. “Any of them caught your eye? M'aya, maybe?” He pointed at the female that Gibbs had noticed earlier. “You can talk to them; see if their hobbies and interest are compatible with yours. They don't just lie around all day and look pretty.”

“No, I meant what do I have to do to claim one of them? I already know who I want.” Gibbs clarified.

“You've already chosen?” the Major asked, startled.

Gibbs glared at him impatiently.

“Ah yes, of course. Tell me who and I will hand your owner tag to our engraver. It will be completed while I finalize the papers. Witnesses are on stand-by and we will file the details of your Feline's clearance with your agency.” Williams rattled down the list, but his thoughts seemed to be troubled. “There is no way back once you've chosen; are you sure you really don't want to take more-”

“Yes.” Gibbs didn't wait for another objection. He made his way through the pillows and towards his goal, ignoring the manicured fingers that dared to reach for his trouser legs, until he came to stop at A'thon's side.

Not only the tiger Feline was blinking at him with a dumb struck expression; Gibbs could feel everyone's incredulous reaction. He couldn't care less. His blue eyes locked with wide green ones. “You'll do as I say at work, don't destroy my things, and I will always take care of you to my best ability. I'll never hurt you on purpose, and I'll treat you with the same courtesy I afford anyone else- which does not say much, let me warn you.”

A'thon scrambled up, nearly falling over in his haste.

“You can have a life as normal as we can manage. That's all I can promise. Do we have a deal? If you don't want to, I'll choose someone else.” Gibbs held out his right hand and watched patiently while the feline took his time, looking him up and down, judging his sincerity, before glancing around. His fellow felines were visibly eager for him to decline the offer. A'thon shrugged his shoulders, then placed his enormous right paw in the silver haired agent's palm. Gibbs had big, strong hands- but they were still dwarfed by the tiger's.

.-#-.


	3. Take home

Williams hadn't tried again to make Gibbs reconsider. Instead, and under the other marine's grudging close attention, he had done his best to give him a crash course on how to care for his new companion while they were waiting for the bureaucratic mills to finish grinding. It wasn't that difficult, most of the things he said were pointing out what good common sense would have told him anyway. Like, he shouldn't feed A'thon real cat food; instead he should be fed a normal, human diet- just without adding spices and what animals reacted negatively to. Felines in cat form being similar to actual big cats in their sensitivity to certain human spices.

What kind of name was A'thon? It sounded artificial and rolled off his tongue clumsily. Gibbs asked Williams about it and the grimace the other man made before he answered didn't bode well.

“No, that's the name that was chosen for him. I don't know his original name.”

A non-answer and as helpful as a stone to the head. Great. That left one option that Williams, despite his more humane attitude towards Felines, hadn't thought of: asking the one who should know best. How difficult could it be for A'thon to use his claws and scratch the name he wanted to be called with into... Well, the sawdust covered floor in his basement would do nicely.

Other points were more pertinent to a seamless transition; things like the fact that certain brands of pain medication made A'thon act dizzy and lowered his inhibitions. Or that you should never let anything you didn't want him to see lie around because the tiger was nosy. At that point the major was pointedly staring at the tiger Feline who did his best to look like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Finally every 'i' was dotted and every 't' crossed and Gibbs could leave with his new companion by his side. The Agent had refused to accept the offered leash and just asked A'thon to follow him and ignored the awed and curious stares from everyone who saw them pass by as soon as they were back in the regular areas of the White House. He had arrived in Sheppard's limousine but someone had the foresight to send him one of the NCIS cars. A'thon waited till Gibbs opened the door for him and then jumped in and lay down on the backseat.

Gibbs was happy to see the back of the White House, he had spent enough time there, nearly half a day. It was getting dark and snow had begun to fall slowly. That and a sharp wind made the streets slippery and tricky, enough so that even Gibbs drove more slowly than normal. His version of slow (and some corners he traversed with two tires barely on the ground) made his passenger yip and whimper, sounds he had never thought tigers could produce.

“If you throw up I'll find a way for you to clean it up again.”

A'thon growled. The agent growled back.

Then his phone rang. “Gibbs.”

The person on the other end didn't waste time with niceties. Caitlin Todd, his second in command, had learned better within three days of working for him. “Boss, we got new intel on our missing Petty Officer Swanson. A neighbor alerted the police because they heard shots. They found the wife dead and the son missing. BOLO has been out for the car, a yellow Fiat, Maryland plates, it was sighted near the Fort Washington Marina. Swanson has a boat moored there.”

Gibbs put his foot down and accelerated the car, the phone pressed between ear and shoulder. Crazy men and little kids were never a good combination. “On my way.”

“McGee and I are en route as well but there has been a pile up and we're stuck behind.”

“Hurry.” His car swerved dangerously but an extra push of speed took him out of the way of a truck and a possible collision. That marina wasn't too far away. Driving a car at this speed took all his attention. Mother nature did her part to make it more difficult and changed her cheerful snowflakes into sleet.

He went over the salient points of this particular case in his mind. The case had been frustrating: a petty officer first class who had stolen, of all idiotic things, the prized coin collection of his Captain so he could afford a better lawyer in his divorce and custody proceedings. They hadn't been able to find him for the last four days.

It was fully dark when he arrived at the harbor and he was greeted by three police cars and one ambulance that stood in a half circle around a small, bright yellow car. Not only had Swanson lost his marbles, he had never had them to begin with. Or he'd slept through all the camouflage lectures in basic because who used such a memorable eyesore as an escape vehicle? It was embarrassing that they hadn't been able to find this man sooner.

Three detectives were currently securing the car, their weapons drawn. The tracks from their cars were still visible on the tarmac so they had to have arrived not more than a minute before Gibbs.

“Gibbs, NCIS, report.” Without his backup of choice he would use what was at hand and fight about jurisdiction after the sailor was in custody and the little boy safe.

“I'm Detective Carlson. Car's empty, no blood, no weapon as far as we can see. No sign of the perp or the kid. We haven't touched anything.” The oldest detective, an African-American man, told him after taking a good, long look at the grim features of the agent. “Haven't had time to check his boat yet.”

Gibbs stretched to glare over their shoulders into the car. Someone had turned on some of the floodlights, probably the marina official that was standing to the side, wringing his hands. A vicious swear word made it out between the agent's cold lips. On the backseat lay a raggedy looking plush bunny.

There weren't many options open to the fugitive. “Where's the boat moored? He might try to escape over water.”

“Far left pier, sixth boat down, at the end. He's mad as a hatter if he wants to try that. Sea's stormy and it's winter. Not sailing weather. We called the Coast Guard to warn them just in case.”

Gibbs drew his own weapon and began to run. “Make the manager turn on all lights! Carlson, you're with me.”

Swanson was standing at the head end of the pier, looking up at the suddenly bright flood lights and then to the approaching men. In one hand he held a pistol, the other clutched a little boy, maybe 6 years old, to his chest.

“Petty Officer Swanson, lower your weapon, nobody has to get hurt.” Gibbs ordered. The planks under his feet were trembling, battered by the waves and he had to blink water out of his eyes. If at all possible he didn't want to risk a kill shot. “Now, do it sailor.”

“She tried to divorce me, the bitch. Take away my son.” Swanson sobbed and clutched the whimpering boy harder. “That's not right. A man has a right to his son.”

The agent spared a quick glance at the boy. A man also had the damn responsibility to care for his kid and from the looks of it, Swanson had fucked up majorly. His son wasn't even wearing a winter coat, just a thick bright blue fleece sweater. With the way his eyes were half open and glazed, the way his little head hung down as if his neck couldn't hold it up he was already deep into shock.

“Put your weapon down! Now.” Gibbs bellowed and took aim. For a second it looked as if ingrained reflexes to that particular tone of voice might do the trick, the gun was slowly sinking down and the man swayed on his feet. But then the sound of feet trampling over the wooden pier drew his eyes.

“Nononono...” Swanson wailed. “No way... No! If I can't have him...”

Gibbs knew how the rest of that sentence usually went and before the crazy sailor could point his weapon at his helpless child the agent pulled the trigger. His bullet caught the man in the right shoulder and downed him nicely, his weapon falling out of his numb fingers and out of his reach. What he hadn't counted on was that Swanson was so far beyond any reason that even the shock of being shot wasn't really registering with him. He was following Gibbs' personal rule 9: never go anywhere without a knife: the agent saw it glittering in the floodlight.

“Get the kid!” he ordered Carlson and then threw himself at Swanson, since he didn't have a clear shot anymore. The sailor was bigger than Gibbs, crazy, wet and slippery like an eel. With cold fingers clutched around the maniac's fist and all muscles trembling from the tension of holding the man down he could only watch helplessly as the little boy tumbled over the edge of the pier like a marionette that had been cut from its strings before the detective could reach him.

Swanson had seen it too and his crazy, high pitched laughter threw Gibbs out of his horrified stillness. A hard uppercut left the lunatic half conscious. Carlson took over and cuffed the now placid sailor.

It was nearly impossible to make out a child's small body among the icy waves of the sea. Gibbs eyes frantically scanned the peaks and valleys, tried to calculate where the torrent would have taken the boy, while he shrugged out of his warm winter coat. While not as wild as farther out, the waves were still forceful, heavy clothes would pull him under like a stone. One dress shoe hit the pier, then the other.

“...so shut your eyes while your mother sings, sings, …misty seas... shut eyes* forever...,” Swanson babbled.

“Shut him up!” Gibbs shouted and turned around, only to be faced with open mouths and pointing fingers by Carlson's men. “The kid! Where? Did you see...?”

“T-t-t-tiger,” the youngest Detective stuttered: “Jumped! There.”

Icy blue eyes followed the direction of the trembling finger and there in the water, a little bit farther off than he had calculated, more to the coast than to the open sea, he could see someone desperately battling against the raging waves. Gibbs had completely forgotten about his new shadow when he had arrived at the marina, but there he was: A'thon, stretching his head high to give the kid he held onto by the neck of the soaked blue fleece jacket a chance to breath. Again and again the merciless water pulled the two heads under the surface. The waves pressed the swimmer dangerously near some of the moored boats. Crashing against their hulls would make an already dangerous situation worse.

“Where did it escape from? It'll eat the kid!” Someone shouted hysterically and coming down on the idiot's head didn't warrant Gibbs turning around while he hastened to get as near to the swimmer as he could while still staying on the pier. “If he wanted to eat someone he would have bitten your fleshy behind, not jumped in after a kid to drown! Now help me.”

If he remembered the discovery channel production about tigers correctly, they were some of the few cats who actually liked to swim; but he doubted that there had been much opportunity at the White House Stables to train that skill. The sailing boat that was nearest to Feline and child was covered with a thick tarp to safeguard its deck's surface from the winter weather. Gibbs pulled out his knife and, instead of wasting time untying it, slashed the material apart. After a second of hesitation the LEOs helped. While they pulled the tarp off completely Carlson and Gibbs climbed across the deck of the boat to the other side and leaned over the railing. They stretched as far as they safely could to reach the visibly struggling Feline and his burden.

Again and again waves pushed both heads under and Gibbs held his breath until they resurfaced again. A'thon saw them and desperately battled to come nearer.

“Just a little bit more, come on, you're doing great!” Encouraging words were shouted, unheard by water-filled tiger ears.

Finally, the waiting men were able to grab the still form of the boy and tow him onto the deck. “Got him!” Gibbs panted and handed the kid to the waiting hands of the paramedics before turning around again to rescue his Feline.

A'thon was at the end of his reserves, his movements were getting sluggish and as soon as he felt fingers claw into the soaking wet fur of his nape the rest of the fight went out of him.  
"Don't try to use the collar, it has a break link." Gibbs cautioned the kneeling detective beside him.

Hauling a tiger upwards and into safe territory was not easy. The Feline had the body mass of a tall, well built adult man but the cold water that soaked him through his fur and to the skin added considerable weight. A third set of hands helped them bridge the last inches and when Gibbs looked up he saw the anxious face of his Junior Agent, McGee looking back.

“Boss, you're all right?”

“Just peachy.” Must the young man ask such inane questions? Couldn't he see that his boss was nearly as wet and miserable as the Feline and the kid?

Speaking of the kid, Gibbs could see paramedics working on the little one further down on the pier. He could only hope that he would survive- but it was out of his hands now. Another man wearing the uniform of a medic was waiting for them, thermo-sheets and woolen blankets in his arms. Instead of doing his job, hurrying to them, he was just standing there, staring at the crumpled form at Gibbs' feet.

“He's mine, a Feline, not a threat. Give me those blankets before he dies of hypothermia.” One of Gibbs' hands was still securely holding on to the fur of the Feline, the other stroked over the heaving flanks. It was so cold that he expected to see icicles forming any moment. Wild tigers might like water, but they wouldn't try to swim in a nearly freezing dirty harbor.

The next half hour was filled with people trying to sort out the mess. The boy had been transported to the nearest hospital; when they departed he had been breathing but he was far from out of danger. Agent Todd and Agent McGee had accompanied the father to a different hospital. His shoulder wound was a clean shot and there shouldn't be any complications- even if Gibbs wished he had put the bullet between his eyes instead.

That left the lead agent with a lot of paperwork waiting for him at the office, a worse than usual disposition, damp clothes, and an even damper A'thon wrapped in multiple blankets on the backseat of his agency Sedan.

 

.-#-.

*Lines are from: Wynken, Blynken and Nod by Eugene Field.


	4. Surprise

Gibbs liked boats- he really did, as evidenced by the content of his basement- but he wasn't crazy enough to like them in winter. He played with the thought of going to the office and getting an early start on the paperwork, but in the end, his need to go home won. There wasn't anything that couldn't wait for tomorrow on his desk. His thoughts were longingly directed towards his home and the shower that was waiting there for him. Lots of steamy water to battle the cold and soap to chase away the salty, fishy smell that clung to him and the interior of the car, mixed with what, until today, he would have identified as 'wet dog smell'. In this case not so much canine as Feline- but the end result was the same: obnoxious. It clung to everything in the car and wasn't it a good thing that this was not his personal vehicle but an agency car? Whoever got to have the pleasure of cleaning it, it would not be him.

One last turn and he pulled into his driveway, stopped the car, and got out. He was halfway to the front door, his thoughts already ahead of him and filled with hot soapy water when he realized that he wasn't being followed. With a deep sigh he turned around.

The Feline had somehow managed to open the car door at the marina when he wanted to get out, surely he could repeat that trick now. “Do you need a special invitation?!”

Gibbs flung the back door open and was greeted by a wriggling mass of blankets that went still under his glare. A'thon's head sank down until only his eyes and the upper part of his head were visible, with his ears hanging pitifully. If big jungle cats were able to look mortified, this was it.

“Don't tell me you got tangled.”

The head sank further down.

“Oh, for....” It took some hard tugs until the outer layer of the Feline's impromptu chrysalis came loose. Gibbs stepped back, flinging the dirty blankets into the trunk of the car- the ambulance team would want them back- and then finally led the way to dryness and warmth. “Come on, let's try to end this day without another crisis.”

On his way in, Gibbs checked the lantern that was standing on the low sill outside, beside his front door. The thick pillar candle inside was still burning, a flickering, fragile little light, and there was easily enough wax left for the rest of the night and the next day. Wind had blown snow to the spot and the candle's warmth had carved out a hollow in the glittering white pile.

A'thon kept close to his heels, eying his surroundings with interest and curiosity, his earlier mortification forgotten.

One moment to listen for any uninvited guests, switch on the light, coat on its hook, shoes on the rack, like any other evening. “Look around while I prepare the bath. If I find any claw marks I'm going to take it out of your hide, understood?” He didn't wait to see a reaction and climbed the stairs, shrugging out of his clothes as he went until all that was left were his briefs and socks. If his new housemate was bothered by it, too bad. Gibbs hadn't asked for this, and he would be damned before he altered his routine. A'thon would learn to deal with his moods just like his Agents at work had to.

Gibbs wasn't a giant like some basketball players but he still scraped the 6 feet line and thus, when his pipes broke two years back and damaged his bath, he had opted to invest a few dollars more and spring for the bigger tub and shower combination. It was a pretty minor concession to luxury, but his bad knee had thanked him for it more than once. The additional space would come in handy now.

The Feline was in a sad state. The light in the hallway had illuminated damp matted fur that was sticking up in every direction and was smeared with unidentifiable substances. Had that been a bird bone in his ruff? There was a lot of scrubbing in Gibbs' immediate future. The tiger could hardly clean himself with his tongue like a normal cat would. A puking, ill Feline was NOT what the new and hapless owner needed. Even after Gibbs washed him, he would need to dry and brush A'thon's fur to avoid any health issues for the Feline.

Gibbs leaned his head against the medicine cabinet above the sink and allowed himself to close his eyes. What the hell had the President been thinking? Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a working man, a Special Agent with one alimony to pay, now that two of his ex-wives had remarried, and a cleaning lady that came once a week. He wasn't some rich guy with a flock of servants that would take care of every mundane problem for him. Yeah, swimming in a dirty harbor hadn't likely featured in the grand master plan, but it pointed out some glaring logistical mistakes that hadn't been planned for. For example: that the half empty bottle of all-in-one shampoo in his shower caddy would never be sufficient for the task ahead and he strongly doubted that his comb could do double duty as a tiger grooming device. He hadn't thought it necessary hours ago but...“This would be much, much simpler if he could morph to human form.” he murmured.

The only reaction he got was a shuffling behind him that made him school his features and turn around. Nothing was there, but he could hear the wooden floorboards in the hallway creak. “A'thon?” Still nothing. Gibbs rubbed his hands over his nape where his muscles were tight and knotted. “I really have to find out his real name, this sounds like something the Elflord would use in gaming.”

But first things first. A few terse movements, water began to flow into the tub and towels were thrown over the small radiator to warm up. This time Jethro wasn't distracted and heard someone coming up behind him. “Bath's nearly ready.”

“Thank you. My name is Anthony, by the way. Tony, if you want.”

The voice was a little rough from lack of use, not melodious but far and away nicer than anything a cat's voicebox could have produced. Gibbs refused to jump. He calmly added some bath salts (remnants of his last ex-wife) to the water before he looked over his shoulder.

'Tony' was leaning against the open door, naked as the day he was born, one hand on the door frame, the other in front of his genitals. He looked more human than any of the Felines he had seen today with only faint markings on his shoulders and hips that corresponded with his tiger form's stripes. The only commonalities he had with his other form were the green eyes, brunette, gold and black striped shock of hair on his head … and he was just as filthy as the tiger had been.

“Don't tell me that an ice bath cured your morphing problems.”

A tentative, shy smile bloomed on the handsome face and Tony tilted his head. “Ah. No. I always could, just didn't want to.”

“You stayed a cat because you wanted to.” As a concept it was not conceivable to Gibbs.  
´  
“Do you know that big cats can smell corruption? I stayed a cat to avoid wealthy corrupt people with too much power and the desire to own a Feline." Tony paused, and added in a disgusted tone of voice, "Did you know, tigers are rare and highly sought after among Felines?” 

Gibbs ignored the implications of that for the moment and asked instead, 

“So this is the first time you've morphed back into human form?” The silver haired man gestured to indicate that the bath was ready. “Hop in while it's hot, I'll shower afterward.” Then he waited for the other man to pass by him so he could leave the room.

Tony took one careful step forward, stumbled and caught himself on the nearby cupboard. “It's been nearly seven years... I couldn't risk someone seeing me, there's surveillance everywhere in the Stables.”

Seven years as a cat were a good explanation for why he was holding onto the door frame like it was the only steady anchor in a swaying world. Gibbs would have to think about his dual nature later, and the implications beyond it solving the soap problem.

Jethro hadn't been keen on touching and washing the tiger form. Even if his fingers still twitched and longed to find out what all that beautiful fur would feel like when it was dry; it felt too much like falling into the prescribed role of a Master to have that kind of unrestricted access after only meeting hours before. He felt even more reluctant about handling a naked human someone who was, in essence, his possession. “Do you need assistance?” It came out gruffer and more impatient than planned. The next step and subsequent stumble answered his question and he hurried to grab the Feline under one shoulder before the fool could crack his head open on his bathroom floor.

Tony ducked his head, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. “Sorry to be such a bother. I have to find my balance again. Two feet are very different than four.”

The skin under his fingers felt rough and flaky, not silky like Gibbs had expected from how soft Tony's fur had looked. Without thinking about it he altered his grip and rubbed his thumb pad over a visibly agitated patch of skin. The body under his hands grew still. Green eyes with slit pupils eyed him cautiously, warily.

Gibbs acted as if nothing had happened and helped him take the last two steps to the tub before he let go. “You've got rashes. Does this hurt?”

“I never had skin problems before, don't know where they come from.” Tony slowly climbed into the tub and sank down into the warm water with a audible sigh of contentment.

“So you have no idea if this is normal?”

Broad shoulders lifted and sank down again helplessly. “The handlers never bothered to give me those lectures. Saw it as a waste of time.”

It hadn't been included in the short Feline for Dummies lecture Gibbs got from Williams either. Another point, apart from the rashes, that bothered him was Tony's weight. The tiger form had been muscular and lean but nowhere near as thin as the human form. Gibbs wasn't watching directly now, he kept his eyes averted. They were uncomfortable enough in each other's presence, but he remembered how the younger man's ribs had been visible under the skin. Maybe it was something that would be taken care of by time and food. And what was he doing here, standing around like a fool?

“Enjoy your bath. Don't drown. Again. I'll make us dinner.” Gibbs threw a washcloth into the water.

“Food?” Tony eagerly licked his lips. “That would be so great.”

There was no help for it, he reminded Gibbs of a real cat he had brought home as a kid. Bathe him (without getting clawed), feed him, and then let him sleep would be the schedule for this unplanned addition to his household too, it seemed. Without the fleas that had made his mother throw her hands up in exasperation. “A pair of my jogging pants and a sweater should fit you well enough.”

The bright smile the offer earned him made the agent flee the room to search for the promised items. Socks too. All better than letting Tony run around in his house naked. He would have to make some purchases at Sears and Wal-Mart soon to buy clothing that fit Tony properly- along with other supplies. Gibbs entered the bathroom again with his little load. In and out, simple enough, yes?

Put the clothes on the cupboard and prepare to leave again, Marine.

He was closing the door when something caught his eyes. Tony hadn't reacted to his return; he was sitting in the tub, preoccupied with staring at one of his hands that he held raised in front of his eyes. Gibbs watched silently while the other man balled the hand to a fist, stretched it again, repeated the process and turned it this way and that before suddenly letting it drop down into the water.

A splash, movement and Tony sank down backwards to dunk his hair.

Gibbs softly closed the door.

 

.-#-.

 

Morning came and with it new challenges for the unlikely housemates. Both had been beat the night before. They had devoured their late meal without talking much with each other, and then gone to bed. Gibbs in the master bedroom's king sized bed and Tony, after asking twice if he was really allowed, in the simple single bed in what had been a guest bedroom and would now serve as his room.

After four marriages Gibbs should be more than used to sharing space and a bathroom with someone. This situation, especially the 'till death do us part' piece of it had some similarities and those, more than the differences, left him with an uneasy feeling. A feeling that he expressed by being more of a bastard than usual, not talking at all until he had downed his first cup of coffee.

Tired eyes made for bad observers, so Gibbs had missed it the night before, but now his attention was drawn to the collar around Tony's throat. It was the one the tiger had worn as well, only now wound around twice, with the tag dangling down like a pendant, boldly proclaiming whose property this young man was.

Tony's balance had reasserted itself so he didn't need assistance anymore. He was exploring the house while the agent prepared their breakfast. The younger man was smiling and looking at everything he found, talking a mile a minute but never touching anything. He wore the same borrowed clothes he had been given the night before, not the jeans and shirt Gibbs had laid out for him.

The meal was another repeat of yesterday and, seeing how the Feline devoured his food, barely bothering with using fork and knife, Gibbs narrowed his eyes but decided to not say anything yet. What did Tony think? That he would take away the bacon and scrambled eggs mid-bite? He had cooked enough for both of them, easily. Gibbs slowly ate his own portion, using his best table manners. Taking the time to have a real breakfast and not just coffee to go wasn't part of his normal morning routine, and had to be savored.

When his coffee cup was as empty as his plate the older man stood up and rinsed them. There were a few left over spoonfuls of food in the pan. He held it up and raised his eyebrow questioningly but Tony, who had remained in his seat and silently watched him eat, shook his head no after a little bit of hesitation. Gibbs threw it away and put the pan in the dishwasher.

“You might wanna get ready. Gotta head to the office in ten minutes.”

Tony only nodded and with a soft, “Thank you for the meal,” first rinsed his own plate and cup, placing them with Gibbs', and then left the kitchen; not to go upstairs and to the waiting clothes, like the agent had expected, but into the small hallway bathroom. There was a peculiar grinding sound and, when the door opened again, a tiger instead of a man came out to sit beside the front door.

.-#-.


	5. Explore

Two days later, they had established a routine. They took every hour as it came; Gibbs tried not to think too much about it. Get up, shower, put on clothing, eat breakfast and then Tony would transform into his tiger form to accompany his owner to work.

Of all the reactions they received at NCIS, Sheppard's had been disappointingly predictable. The security guard at the door, after staring at the tiger with his mouth open, had told the silver haired agent that he was expected to go up to her office first thing when he arrived. Gibbs had passed him as if he hadn't said a word and waited until the doors of the elevator closed before rolling his eyes heavenward.

Jen had devoured the Feline with her eyes, causing Tony to choose to sit down on his haunches as near as possible and sideways behind his owner. Gibbs couldn't fault his instincts and faintly wondered what the big cat was smelling on her. The director looked like she would lick her lips any second now.

“One of my contacts in the White House told me all about it,” she gushed.

Gibbs felt how 'It' pressed against his legs.

“To be honest, at first I thought you were crazy for picking the damaged one. Normally you aren't a bleeding heart.” Sheppard beamed at the agent and patted him on the shoulder. “But I shouldn't have doubted you, you chose the perfect Feline for you. There was a very tasteful article in today's newspaper about the rescue at the marina, very favorable. And it isn't as if you need a sex slave. Such a pity that we can't hold a press conference, but SecNav insisted that the President wants to handle this with the utmost discretion, so the usual laws concerning Felines apply.”

All of this was not only more personal than he felt allowable, but it also sounded like the Director thought Gibbs should be ecstatic about owning someone. No matter that he had, indeed, been lucky; Tony had a character and personality that made it easy to like him. That wasn't what she was gushing about. Her belief that he could want to own someone, without being forced to, left a very foul taste in Gibbs' mouth. Before she could go on mourning the lost opportunity and insult not only Tony but Gibbs more, he interrupted her.

“Director, I have a mountain of paperwork waiting for me and a case to close. Please excuse us,” he forced out between his teeth; he left the office before she could call him back.

Gibbs had ignored all the other awed, envious and curious stares by the people at the Yard and acted like nothing extraordinary at all had changed. He'd simply walked in with his companion- with a little NCIS ID plate clipped to his collar beside the tag-and then left it up to Tony what he did with his time, as long as he wasn't in the way. There wasn't much for him to do in tiger form, but it seemed as if Tony had only broken his self-appointed tigerness for Gibbs, nobody else.

If he wished to lie behind the fourth, empty desk in their cubicle, that was his prerogative. Contrary to his much more lively behavior at home, Tony seemed to like pretending he was invisible at the office, simply observing what was going on and never being too far away from Gibbs' side. The Feline had a knack for anticipating his moves and actions. He was never in the way as the team was wrapping up their last case. No new cases came in, so it wasn't that difficult to ignore his presence. At first, people found excuses to pass near the MCRT's area to catch a glimpse of the tiger Feline, but they didn't dare it more than once when faced with icy blue, angry eyes and a scowl that served Gibbs well when he had to make fully grown sailors quake in their boots. HR personnel, secretaries and fellow agents weren't immune to it either and, when weighing staring at something that looked like a tame tiger against angering a very much not tame special agent, it was easy to guess which scenario won, hands down.

More interesting were the reactions of Gibbs' team. When he'd introduced the Feline to them the day before, there hadn't been time for such pleasantries; he refused to use Tony's ridiculous official name, instead calling him simply 'Tony." McGee had for one moment looked as if he didn't know if he should be fearing for his life or asking if he was allowed to pet Tony. Caitlin Todd was ignoring their new addition whenever possible. Her only comment had been to congratulate Gibbs and mention that she knew Felines from her days as a Secret Service Agent.

The leader of the team steadily worked through his reports but spared part of his attention to what was going on around him.

“Oh. Thank you Tony! That's the one I've been searching for. I wondered where I'd left it.”

Gibbs looked up. Ah, after a day and a half of careful observation and hidden reconnaissance the next stage of the Feline's campaign to stealthily claim territory and assert his presence seemed to be underway. From his position he could see the tiger standing on his hind legs in front of McGee's desk, his front paws on the desktop and a file in his mouth which the computer expert took with a shy smile. But then the young agent made a mistake, he hesitantly raised his free hand in the direction of Tony's head.

The tiger shied away and landed on all fours, then retreated under the empty desk, closing the open file closet with a casual bump of his hips on his way past.

Cait laughed. “Didn't your mother teach you to look but not touch, McGee?”

Tim blushed but ignored her. “Sorry Tony, but I've never seen a tiger so close up before and your fur looks really... soft.”

Gibbs hid his smile behind the requisition form he was holding at the moment. Yes, it was indeed as soft as it looked. The Feline might avoid all contact at the office, but as soon as they were alone in the car, or before he transformed at home- sometimes as soon as he passed the threshold- it had become normal for the big cat to brush up against the man, sometimes even rub his whiskers against his thigh. There was nothing suggestive about it, just soft, careful exploration of the boundaries between them disguised as casual touches, and he never tried it in human form. The night before, Gibbs had sat down on the bench in his basement to drink a little bourbon and without thinking about it lost the fight against the temptation to stroke once over the sleek back. But what was acceptable, and- from the purrs- even wanted contact at home, and by Gibbs, was very much forbidden and unwanted by the other agents.

“I won't try again.” Tim promised.

First the ears appeared over the top of the desk, then the rest of the big cat's head. Tony rested his chin on the desk, snorted and then wriggled his ears comically. McGee had been forgiven.

“Don't you have anything else to do?” their boss harshly growled and left it open if he meant two or three of the occupants of his cubicle.

Cait promptly returned to her typing but McGee and Tony exchanged identical 'oops' glances before the computer agent opened the file he had been given and the Feline went back to whatever he was doing behind the barrier of the desk.

Yeah, things were developing nicely on most fronts. But two things kept niggling at Gibbs and he opened his e-mail program. When he returned home in the evening he was not surprised by the strange car in his driveway and the not so strange figure that was leaning against it. Gibbs ignored the disturbed yelp from behind him and parked his car.

“I asked him to come.” He got out and offered the other marine his hand in greeting. “Major Williams. Thank you for reacting so promptly, please come in.” He turned around. Tony was sitting miserably in the snow beside the car. Drooping whiskers, sad eyes, the perfect cat-version of little-boy-lost expression on his furry face.

“Tony? Move it.”

Even the tiger's stride was like a prisoner on his walk to the gallows.

Gibbs sighed and tugged at one ear when the Feline passed by him. This wasn't one of Tony's shenanigans; there was real fear in the green eyes, and it was easy to guess why. “Go and change. I promise, I've no intention of sending you back, just want to ask some questions.”

Their visitor had observed the interaction thoughtfully. Gibbs offered him a hanger for his coat and then led him to the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

The major smiled. “Yes, thank you. So I guess A'thon isn't as damaged as he appeared?”

“Tony. And nope. Seems as if you gave me the wrong kind of lecture.” Gibbs started the percolator.

“And you now want the missing bits.”

“You don't look too surprised.” Gibbs observed, and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Williams shrugged his shoulders. Here, away from the White House and in civvies instead of his uniform, he appeared to be much more relaxed. “I suspected. Most Felines, when they are stuck, get depressed and non-communicative the longer it lasts. They give up on living. Your... Tony never did. I guess it isn't the sex lecture you want?”

“No.” Gibbs answered brusquely and then fell silent again. He could hear movement in the hallway and now that he had learned the difference it wasn't hard to distinguish between the creaks that were caused by feet instead of paws. Another moment and Tony entered the kitchen in his loose sweater and the soft jogging pants that were a little bit too short in the legs for him.

Williams sharp in-draw of breath supported Gibbs' suspicions that something was indeed wrong. The rash, visible on the Feline's neck above the collar of the sweater had grown worse, it looked like it wasn't healing at all and the cheekbones had grown more defined in the last two days.

“I've never seen such a harsh side effect to morphing before.” The major said softly.

Tony had stopped in the doorway. He entered now and held himself away from the other two males. Normally, as soon as he had morphed, the exotic man would begin to talk, comment, often rather humorously, about what had happened during the day, never expecting more than a grunt from the agent, often not even that. The older man had grown used to hearing the vibrant voice, accepting it as a kind of background noise. Now, none of the usual chatter came forth.

“What's wrong? I asked Tony, but he didn't know it himself.”

William looked startled. “And he didn't complain? Whenever he stubbed a paw or tweaked his tail everyone in the Stables would know it from the way he grumbled and whined. As for what's wrong, it's two things: Skin is the part of the body most affected by a change. Muscles, bones, nerves are essentially the same in any creature but growing fur where there was none aggravates follicles and tissue and the same is true with the reverse process. You never morphed before, because you feared being found out?” The last sentence was directed at the Feline.

Tony shook his head no, then yes, still non-vocal.

“No wonder your skin reacted violently, but it can be solved easily. It just needs care. Moisturizer cream applied twice a day should do the trick. Try to spend as little time as possible in cat form for a few weeks but nevertheless transform for one or two hours per day to get used to it too.”

The percolator had finished and Gibbs filled three coffee cups which he placed on the table. “And second?”

“Thank you.” Williams sipped from his coffee. “He is starving. With every morph he is eating up his reserves.”

Gibbs' head flew back like someone had slapped him hard. All the times he had offered the younger man a second serving and it was declined! The way Tony had watched every bite he had put in his own mouth suddenly made horrible sense. The agent whirled around, suddenly furious and prepared to come down hard on the little martyr only to be stopped by the picture of Tony hanging his head, not looking at him at all.

“Why? Do you think I'm such a bastard or so tightfisted that I would begrudge you food?” he finally asked softly.

Tony opened his mouth, closed it and then tried again, still not looking up. “You chose me because you thought you'd only get a tiger, not despite that fact and when I got extra hungry.... I didn't want to be a burden, didn't honestly know it could be dangerous. I was a little bit hungry, so what? I figured it would pass.”

Next thing he knew, Gibbs was standing in front of him, his hand sharply connecting with the back of Tony's head. “No one in my home has to go hungry! When you want more to eat, tell me or make yourself a sandwich or whatever strikes your fancy. Got it?”

“Yes, boss.”

Tony was sensitive enough to not call him master. He hadn't called him anything at all until Gibbs had guessed about the problem and gruffly told him that being called boss would do nicely their second evening.

William had closely watched the exchange and a warm, approving smile played on his lips. “He's not powered by magic, but by food like any other human being, no matter how extraordinary his morphing seems to be. Felines are a little bit like children in that regard, they need a lot of fuel to power the changes in their body. That's normal. I can give you the names of some nutrition supplements, vitamins you can get in every pharmacy that will help.” He turned to Tony again. “Do you have any other health problems? Joint pains, bad eyesight, any organ pains?”

Tony shook his head vigorously and Gibbs kept a close eye on his reaction, trying to catch him in a possible lie again. Gibbs would have to remember that the younger man seemed to have a tendency to ignore his own boundaries and keep an eye out for lies of omission.

“Then everything should be okay. You know that your ability to morph at will has to go in your medical file? Your doctor, as soon as you choose one- and you should chose soon- has to know. Special Agent Gibbs can forward me the name and I will make sure that your doctor gets the confidentiality agreement and all the information he needs.” It didn't take the major more than a few big gulps to finish his hot beverage, then he scribbled something on a piece of paper he had pulled out of his pocket. “Here are the names of the products we are using to treat morphing rash. I have to get back- my shift starts soon, but if you have any other question, call me.”

“Thank you again.” Yes, Gibbs could be courteous, given the right circumstances. The other marine had done him a favor, even if the agent suspected that the novelty of keeping an eye on one of his charges after pairing them with someone had a lot to do with Williams' readiness to help.

“I want to take a shower, may I be excused?” Tony was still twitchy and keeping his distance, visibly uncomfortable with being in the same room as his former handler, so Gibbs didn't hesitate and waved him away, watching his retreating back.

“I'll keep in contact. I plan to go and get the cream and the pills while he's taking his shower.” Gibbs accompanied his visitor to the door. He knew how good the Feline's hearing was so an extra repetition for the man observing them from the shadows of the stairs wasn't needed. Tony had recited conversations that hadn't happened near him. When he got home, the first thing he would do was drag Tony in the kitchen and make him help prepare an easily digestible, but filling, dish.

The two marines didn't bother with more conversation; they calmly put on their outdoor clothes and went to their respective cars.

Before he climbed inside his car, the major turned around, first hesitantly, and then with clear resolve in his eyes. “Gunny, that boy has spent years as a big cat. It's not only food he is extremely starved for, and you are the first person he has trusted enough to reveal himself. Think about it.”

 

.-#-.

 

Gibbs slowly, carefully stroked his hands down the tense, twitching back, spreading the cream in a fine layer, softly massaging it in. It smelled like herbs and aloe vera. Not unpleasant.

He had waited for some time, after Tony had retreated into his room with the little pot, before he had knocked and waited for permission to enter. For long moments it had seemed as if that permission wouldn't come but then he had heard a faint 'enter.' Neither of them had touched on this issue. Shy of being a contortionist, the Feline would not be able to reach all affected areas. When Gibbs went in, Tony was sitting on his bed on a big towel, another one slung around his hips to protect his modesty, his eyes directed to the floor.

“Lay down, I'll do your back, if you want me to. Just your back.”

That's where they were now. Tony, stiff under his fingers with his face pressed against his pillow, and Gibbs sitting beside him, tending to his back. Apart from a soft stripe of short fur that started in the neck hairline and angled down into a point just above the crack of his ass, it wasn't much different from any of his marine buddies' backs he had seen and massaged as a favor back when he was on Active Duty. That's what Gibbs tried to tell himself, ignoring the hesitant way Tony sometimes pressed back against his touch, just to back off again immediately, and sometimes...

Whenever his fingertips came near the furry parts, muscles contorted in a instinctive warning. Don't go there. I won't purr this time if you touch, it said. Gibbs didn't, just eyed the colorful fur and how the dark stripes developed into shorter fur towards the edge and then tapered off into dark pigment drawings that mirrored the markings of the tiger form.

One final, broad swipe on each side of the spine and he was done. Gibbs wiped his hands clean on the towel Tony was lying on and got up. “All done.”

“Thank you.”

.-#-.


	6. Integrate

In the morning, after a breakfast where Gibbs made sure to fill the Feline's belly with not only oatmeal but a big glass of milk and a huge omelet, they repeated the scene from the night before: Tony lying on his front on his bed, silently. Gibbs sitting beside him and tending to his back, equally silent. The only communication was the one between muscles and skin.

 

.-#-.

 

Upon further reflection, Gibbs realized there was no way he would make the younger man go to the office in old jeans, it would be stressful enough on Tony without him standing out like a sore thumb. Gibbs had rummaged through the piles further back in his closet and unearthed a few clothes that should fit the younger man just fine. A dark gray turtleneck pullover made of the softest wool, Stephanie had called the color anthracite when she brought it home from one of her extensive shopping sprees. It had been too posh to wear at the office and thus ended up forgotten. Brown slacks that had always been a tad too long. The only thing he couldn't provide readily were good shoes.

Tony had looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights when Gibbs had handed him the items, quickly catching on to why he should wear them. “Boss, I can stay at home until my skin gets better, until I can stay in tiger form again. I won't burn down the house while you're away, honestly!”

“Unfortunately not an option. Go, put them on.”

Gibbs understood that Tony was shy and uncertain about reactions and that he found it easier to hide behind fur and claws, but the former Marine saw no advantage in coddling anyone's sensibilities. The sooner his work colleagues got used to Tony and vice versa, the better. And despite him never locking his door, a habit he would do his best to break from now on, he didn't have much faith in his fellow humans and wouldn't leave the Feline at home, alone and unable to defend himself without it causing a huge ruckus.

“Please!”

A sharp, impatient answer was on the tip of his tongue but then Gibbs rubbed his hand over his neck and tried a different tactic. “In human form you're much more helpful. I could use you at work.”

“Really? I always wanted to be a cop.” White, slightly pointy teeth worried Tony's full lower lip for a moment before he licked over it, soothing the little hurt.

“You're capable of typing up reports and filling out forms, yeah?” That shouldn't be too difficult.

A hesitant smile lit up the lively green eyes. “Never learned the ten finger typing system properly but last time I tried I was pretty fast anyway. And I can use a computer too. Even in cat form. There's a trick to it, you know? You just have to find the right kind of stick and....”

“You'll be using your fingers today. Stop wasting my time, go change. You can wear those sandals-” Gibbs pointed out where he had left them, “until I can get real shoes at the 24/7 on our way in.”

“On it, boss!” Tony bounced away.

While Tony changed his clothes, Gibbs took a thick pillar candle out of the storage space it shared with many more of its kind, stepped outside and carefully pried the lantern open. It took care and shielding the flame from the wind with his body to transfer the fire from the nearly depleted candle to the new candle. He heard when Tony returned but didn't acknowledge him even though Gibbs knew Tony was standing there observing as he transfered the flame. The silver haired man took his time to make sure the little wrought iron and glass door had closed properly.

The silence got to be too much for the Feline. “It's pretty cold.”

Those clothes had never looked as good on Gibbs. “It's winter, Tony.”

Of course the Feline's enthusiasm didn't last for very long and ebbed away completely as soon as they entered the office building, the agent with his customary fresh venti cup of coffee in front and the Feline at his heels, snuggled into a warm new winter jacket with equally new and comfortable boots on his feet. Nobody would guess what he was without intense observation. Young people tended to have all kinds of weird hairdos these days; the tri-colored mop on Tony's head was tame compared to some styles Gibbs had seen. Tony was concealing the only other obvious visible Feline feature he had when he was fully clothed, his slit-pupilled eyes, by trying to keep them lowered.

It didn't help at the Yard, of course. Given the fact that, after only two days, people expected to see Gibbs with a tiger shaped shadow they didn't take long to draw the right conclusion and the agent didn't doubt that the news was already spreading through the building. Rumors traveled at the speed of light at NCIS.

“Chin up!” Gibbs barked encouragingly as he waved the jittery younger man towards the desk that would be his from now on. The head agent just hoped that the Feline wouldn't crawl under it in human form as well. At his own desk, there was work waiting for him to do. Just like other files waiting for completion on his two agents' desks. Agents who would be, if five more minutes passed, late and subsequently on his shit list.

Just in time the elevator doors open and spat out two people who were arguing with each other while nearly running to their places.

McGee looked like as if for once he wasn't backing down. The boy had an unhealthy respect for women but considering his background it wasn't hard to guess why. Three older sisters would succeed in conditioning the strongest man to cower in fear but that was something he should learn to overcome. “It was not my fault!”

“Just because you don't know how to park a car-” Cait interrupted herself to stare at Tony. “Did we get a new Probie- oh.”

Tony had occupied himself by opening and closing drawers and inspecting every filing cabinet he could reach easily with more zeal than Gibbs thought warranted by paper and furniture. Now he was slowly standing up, facing the two younger agents.

“Pretty,” was all Todd said neutrally before she nodded a greeting in Gibbs' direction and then sat down, powered up her computer.

McGee, still red in the face from building up steam to power his arguments, puffed out a breath now that the target for his ire had removed herself from the conversation. “Hi?” he hesitantly offered and then stood there as uncomfortable as Tony himself.

Green eyes clung to the bent head of the female agent, then Gibbs could nearly see the mental shove Tony gave himself before turning to the computer geek. “You won't try to pet me in this form, will you?” he teased, his grin a tad too bright.

“What?” McGee stuttered. “No! I told you, it was all that fur and I find tigers fascinating and-”

Tony grinned and let him off the hook. “Sorry, I couldn't resist. The boss said I should help with paperwork. Do you have anything for me?” he offered up as an apology.

McGee took it. “Uhm, I don't know, let me look. Yeah, there's still the police report and the officer who wrote it, I doubt that he passed the simplest grammar test at school. Could you compare it to this one, it's much more concise, and give me a list with all the facts that differ? Take some of my pens and paper for now. It might turn out more like a translation, though...”

Those two would get along just fine. Gibbs tossed his empty coffee cup into the waste bin and walked away, past two heads bent over a pile of loose paper and a suspiciously observing female agent.

When he returned, before turning around the last corner, he softened his steps to sniper-quiet. It hadn't taken much time to get the requisition forms he needed and to - just because the room wasn't too far out of the way, really - fetch a box full of office supplies which he now rested on top of the room divider between his cubicle and the one Paccí and his team occupied.

His agents were arguing again and they had already included Tony in their little office war.

“Must you play with everything that isn't nailed down? And you, Probie, stop encouraging him!” Todd sounded more exasperated than really annoyed.

Tony had clearly overcome his earlier trepidation, he was all flashing white teeth and expressive gestures. He held up a pen, tossed it in the air and caught it with a flourish. As soon as he was more used to his regained opposable thumbs and the difference they made in manipulating his surroundings he would calm down. Hopefully.

“So if I toss you a ball, you won't chase after it?” Cait asked so drily the people in Japan could have used her voice to soak up a tsunami.

Tony tilted his head to the side. “Don't know. Nobody ever tried, but I doubt it.”

Cait held up her hand in the classical 'wait a moment' gesture and dove behind her desk to reappear moments later, a triumphant grin on her face, holding up something bright looking and round, covered in a mass of rubber nubs. Gibbs remembered that she had called it a stress ball and how she had tried to make him use it. “A good investigator always tries to prove his theories, that's what Gibbs always says.”

She raised her eyebrow at Tony and threw the pink oddity. The little ball bounced twice and then rolled over the floor stopping further down near the steps to MTAC.

Gibbs wondered if she really expected the Feline to chase it like a domesticated pussy cat but what interested him more was how Tony reacted. The dynamic young man lay aside his pen, rested his chin in his palm and smiled pityingly at Cait while McGee avidly watched the spectacle.

“Feline, Special Agent Todd. Feline. Nothing canine about me, I don't do fetch. But-” He bounced up from his chair and strode cockily to where the little ball lay, “thank you kindly for the present. This is much better for improving my dexterity than the pen!” He picked it up, nearly skipped back to his desk and, completely ignoring McGee's snickering and Todd's open mouth, tossed it up, caught it and repeated the action while he began to make notes on the file that lay in front of him with the other hand.

Nope, Tony would work out just fine.

“Ah, Jethro. Just the man I wanted to see.”

Gibbs schooled his features into neutrality. “Director Sheppard.”

The redheaded woman was wearing a black power suit today and the smile of a barracuda. “We didn't have time to really talk. I thought it was time- who is that?” She stared at Tony. “I was not informed that your team was working an active case. Why would you work with a stranger? You rarely ever share juristiction.”

Was this really the same woman who had been his partner in Europe, a capable, if a little too ambitious, agent? Politics must have rotted her brain.

He didn't provide her with an answer but she finally got it herself and the smile on her attractive mouth faltered. “That is surprising. So the Feline can change. How fortuitous.”

Gibbs grabbed the box of supplies again and did his best to ignore her staring at the younger man. The way she did it made his gut tighten. “You wanted something from me?”

She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from Tony. “Yes. I thought it would be nice if we shared dinner somewhere tonight, just catching up.”

Not likely. “I have other plans.”

“Do you now?” There was something in her voice he really didn't like. “Maybe another day.”

He didn't react.

Sheppard whirled on her high heels, nicely showcasing her shapely behind and then, with narrowed eyes, once more stared at the seemingly oblivious Feline, who was concentrating on turning pages and comparing two set of files. “Agent Gibbs, is it really a good idea to let it roam around in a federal agency, unsupervised and in human form?”

Because a fully grown tiger, with teeth as sharp and deadly as small daggers and muscles that were fast and strong enough to decapitate a man would be so much better, sure Ma'am. Just yesterday Sheppard didn't have a problem with that at all. Deadly and intelligent versus physically able to operate their machines faster and intelligent, in Gibbs' opinion they both came out equally. He hadn't forgotten Tony's comment about the possibility of outwitting disadvantages like missing fingers. Yeah, politics had really rotted Jen's brain.

“Take it up with the President, he cleared him. Tony is more productive, not just decorative in human form. You know know much I despise a waste of resources.” He nearly said something else but it would be a bad idea to make an enemy out of the very decorative redhead. “Can I help you with something else?”

“Don't forget to hand in your evaluations on time. Morrow warned me that you never do.” With that parting shot the Director stalked away.

Gibbs put the box down in front of Tony who dove into it. “Someone from the computer lab should be up soon to set up something for you.”

“And I'll show you how to use it.” McGee piped up.

Tony's smile could have powered the building. “That's great!”

“But first we're visiting Ducky.” Gibbs said. “You need a personal physician and I want you to consider Ducky.”

The smile got a lot dimmer. “That's not so great. Boss, I hate doctors! And isn't his job carving up corpses? I'm very much alive.”

“Too bad, I can't stand other doctors either and he is my personal physician of choice. Give him a chance. Move it!” Tony didn't know how lucky he was that Abby was at a forensic conference at Miami. Meeting the friendly, chatty M.E. would be a breeze when compared to what Abby with her fascination for Felines would do to him.

Tony sighed dramatically. “On your six boss.”

Gibbs concealed his amused smile and lead the way to the elevator. A few more days and Tony would have the military lingo down pat.

 

.-#-. 

 

Ducky was up to his elbows in a corpse when they entered autopsy with Gibbs in the lead, a resigned to his fate Tony following him. Not the most ideal circumstances to meet someone, but that had never stopped the gregarious Medical Examiner.

“Ah, Jethro and the newest addition to our motley crew. I was curious when you might visit me here and make introductions. Just a moment, I fear this fellow here is beyond any use for introduction, he should have had less alcohol to drink and looked after his liver more.” Ducky carefully placed a lump of nearly violet flesh on the scales and then offered his gloved, bloody right hand to Tony.

The young man had taken the sight of the corpse with remarkable composure, losing just a little color but now he looked at the elderly man's hand with horror in his eyes and clearly didn't know how he should react. “My name is Tony, I am pleased to meet you too Dr. Mallard, but..” Tony threw a short, questioning look at Gibbs, who gazed back serenely. “... but I think this works better if...might I be of assistance removing the surgical glove first?” he formally asked and stretched out both his hands to the M.E's wrist.

Ducky blinked, then gently smiled and removed the gloves himself, disposing of them in the hazardous waste bin before offering his hand again. “Oh no, dear boy. Sorry, I wear those day in and day out and sometimes forget that I am wearing them at all.”

They shook hands and then Ducky led his visitors to an empty table a little further away. “I would offer you both some tea but I fear I can't leave poor Captain Forlington unattended. Gerald is running an errand for me.” The faded blue eyes of Gibbs oldest friend and confidant might need the assistance of glasses, but they never missed a detail and at the moment they were cataloging Tony. “How might I be of assistance? Jethro never comes down here just to share a chat.”

“Tony needs to choose a new personal physician.”

Ducky looked at Gibbs over the rim of his glasses. “And you thought of me. You know that, even though I share the skills of a normal doctor, I am generally not in practice, even if I am of course delighted to take him on as a patient, if Anthony wants me to. Would you please leave the room so I can speak to him privately?”

“It's OK, he doesn't have to!” Tony hastily assured.

That earned him another close scrutiny from Ducky, and another gentle smile. “Very well. He can wait at the other end of the room, is that acceptable?

A faint blush had crept on to the Feline's cheek, his gut reaction to being left alone with the elderly M.E. embarrassed him in hindsight. He nodded assent and crossed his hands in front of him.

Gibbs went and leaned against the far wall, staying in the line of sight of the Feline. The young man really had a sightly phobic reaction do doctors but Gibbs couldn't imagine one that was friendlier and as non-threatening as his friend. Whatever it had been, it was slowly waning, judging by the lessening of the tension in his shoulders and the way Tony leaned in the doctor's direction the more Ducky talked. And Ducky talked a lot. From where he stood he could only make out faint murmurs.

“Jethro, you can join us again.” Ducky waited until the agent was standing beside them. “You know that my oath will cover this young man's care as well and that I will never answer any questions about his health without his permission, not to you, not to others.”

Gibbs nodded, he hadn't ever assumed differently and Ducky would know that, so this was for Tony's benefit. “I'll write Williams that he should transfer Tony's medical files to you and the additional information as well.”

“Splendid! I will study those files and then we will talk again to make sure every eventuality is covered. Do you have another minute?”

“Yes, why? Is something wrong?” The agent dearly hoped not, they had enough on their plate without some additional health problems.

Ducky shook his head. “No, but this all reminds me of something that happened while I was a young man, traveling during my summer holidays and I wanted to tell you two the story.”

Normally the agent would flee the room but something in his friends face made him hesitate and settle down, he just hoped that the story wasn't too long.

“There was this small town in the middle of the alps and when I and my traveling companion stopped there to refresh our provisions one of the townspeople caught onto the fact that we were studying medicine. You see, that little town was far away from bigger cities and their own doctor was away just as one of their youngsters had fallen down a tree and they asked us if we might help. We agreed to do our best after trying to convey that we weren't fully trained yet, my German wasn't very good. First we attributed the reluctance with which the young woman, the mother of the boy, lead us to her home, to us not being full Doctors.”

Tony had listened with bewildered interest but he too caught onto the undertone of sorrow in Ducky's voice.

“Before we entered her home she made us swear on our hipocratic oath that we wouldn't tell what we were about to see to anyone outside of the town, ever. My traveling companion, I don't consider him a real friend, told her that he would assist as best as he could but he would never agree to be an accomplice in anything criminal. She asked him to stay outside. I could hear sounds of pain coming out of the house and couldn't think of anything a young boy could have done, and that I could witness, so wrong that I would be tempted to tell the authorities.”

“It wasn't what he had done, it was what he was.” Tony softly concluded. Considering his nature it was a logical leap.

“Very true. There was indeed a young boy with a badly broken leg inside, but he was in his Feline form, an adorable snow leopard. It was the first and only time until now that I have met a Feline. The little rascal was about ten years old and had climbed up a tree he should never have attempted to climb, but that's what youngsters do. He transformed to limp home, three working legs made moving easier than one but now he seemed to be unable to shift back. Getting his leg into a brace was a challenge, let me tell you but he was very brave, never tried to claw or bite me.”

“And the townspeople knew? What about your colleague, did he find out and tell the officials about him?”

Gibbs watched the emotions flittered over Tony's face. That tale had happened decades ago, that boy must be easily as old if not slightly older than his Feline was now but his fate seemed to touch Tony deeply.

Ducky patted Tony on the shoulder and the younger man didn't try to avoid the touch. “I invented a little story, a white lie, about how the boy fell while he was planning a prank and that his mother feared even such a small thing would get him into trouble. My colleague went on his way, we would meet again in Zürich and I stayed a day longer to make sure that there wouldn't be complications. The town knew and didn't care. They had a history of one of their own sometimes developing this second skin, always a snow leopard. That's what they called it, developing a second skin, and they saw it as a blessing.”

“Most parents don't.” Tony said. “Thank you for the story.”

“My pleasure, dear boy. By the way Agent Gibbs?”

Uh oh. That was the sound of Ducky preparing to say something Gibbs would not like. “Duck?”

“It's nearly time for your yearly physical. And I won't take any excuses or delays this year, do you hear me?”

Gibbs could nearly feel how Tony was delightedly watching him squirm.

 

.-#-.

 

Two hours later they caught their first new case. The battered body of a young female Corporal had been found in a side alley. When the three agents with Tony in tow arrived at the hospital they were greeted with the presence of an older, painfully composed woman and two small children who were in the waiting room for news of whether Lynette Dunham would survive the night. The police officer who greeted them in said that they suspected the ex-husband, he had beaten her before.

Yeah, Christmas, the time for family and peace.

“McGee, question the officers, pull her file afterward. Todd, same thing with the witnesses and ask the staff if they got trace off her. Tony-“ he only faltered for a moment, ”occupy the kids, I have to talk to the mother.”

“Me?” Tony squawked, his eyes darting to the crying children.

“Do I suddenly speak Spanish?” Gibbs snapped. “Yes, you.”

“Oh God.” Tony mumbled and walked into battle.

 

.-#-.

 

Rubbing the ointment into Tony's skin was a little bit like sanding his boat. Both actions were soothing and it was rewarding to see the result slowly taking form. Both the boat's hull and Tony's skin got smoother with every application, softer and warmer to the touch. His boat didn't arch back against his touch though. Tonight Tony hadn't pressed his face into the pillow, instead he turned it in Jethro's direction, his eyes half closed, relaxed. And it was the first time he'd purred while being touched in human form.

Later, after washing his hands vigorously in the sink and staring at his reflection in the mirror, Jethro lay in his own bed, staring at the ceiling.

.-#-.


	7. Adjust

Four days before Christmas and the whole team was running ragged. The only time Gibbs wasn't growling and ill tempered was when he helped his Feline companion twice a day with his back but even Tony was doing his best to stay out of his way at all other times. He had taken over the duties someone who was not an agent could safely do without endangering the case. His domain now included fetching files and food, pestering witnesses over the phone and typing up statements. Even the additional wriggle room devoid of administrative shit didn't help the agents find clues as to who beat up the Corporal.

At the moment there were no more statements to type and they didn't need a fill up on beverages and snacks. Tony was leaning back in his chair, balancing it precariously and playing with the little stress ball again. “The priest seemed fishy,” he mused aloud.

Agent Todd didn't raise her face from the file she was checking to answer. “Father Cornelius tried to help her get away from her abusive husband, and you're saying he's 'fishy?'”

“Her kids didn't like him. They said he's creepy.”

“Tony, no kid likes to sit still for hours every Sunday and listen to an old man preach. And the kids didn't like you either. Stop distracting me.”

“You can't deny that he had access and time to do it. No alibi either.” Tony insisted and Gibbs reached for his own notes to check.

“Wow Tony, cop expressions. You'll graduate to words with more than three syllables soon. Did you learn them in kitty school?” Todd wasn't normally cruel but after 4 days of too much coffee and too little sleep they all were short on nerves and Tony was a convenient target.

The little ball hit the young Feline's palm with an audible smack and Tony raised the other arm which he'd had wound around himself before, above his head to stretch more fully. “No, I already learned such big, grown-up words at the University of Ohio. I have a degree in Physical Education but my minor was Criminal Psychology. If my sports career didn't pan out I wanted to try my hand at being a cop, and a great one at that.” Tony shot back at the profiler.  
“Yeah sure, prove it. Like I trust your word.” Todd replied derisively.

“I can't.”

Cait snickered, waved her hand and turned her back on him.

Tony resumed his little game with the stress-ball. Up and down, up and down while he spoke in a conversational tone of voice. “I can't because there's nothing left. When you're found as a child it doesn't matter, there's no baggage to get rid of, but when you're an adult and they find you, first thing they do is force you to sit down in a chair and make you watch while they erase your existence from every archive and database, to drive home that there is nothing for you to go back to, even if you could. Birth certificate, hospital records; even every mention on every roster of a team I ever played ball on got deleted by a Secret Service Agent while I watched. My name, gone. So that snobby bitches like you can wrinkle their nose and pretend that they are superior and ending up as someone's possession, no offense boss, could never happen to them. It's standard procedure in the Stables, or weren't you high enough in the food chain while you worked at the White House to be read in on that?”

“Oh stop being such a drama queen.” The female agent said but she was white around her nose.

It would be interesting to know if it was because Tony had hit the bull's eye or if she regretted her words. Cait was normally a compassionate woman, just a little rigid and set in her ways.

Gibbs smiled thinly. It was nice to see that Tony had gained enough confidence to fight back and Todd could only profit from being called on her snotty attitude. And it had unearthed interesting information.

“Tony, use that degree of yours and stop playing around. McGee can show you how our system works. Check Father Cornelius' records.”

He stood up to go use the head and took the long way, the one where he circled around their cubicle. When he was on the other side of the divider, just beside Todd, he leaned over. He didn't raise his voice. “Special Agent Todd, it isn't very professional to dismiss someone from a suspect list solely because they are authority figures with the same religious belief as your own.”

Caitlin flipped her long brown hair back over her shoulders defiantly. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Do that. Not everyone lives up to the rules of compassion, equality and love, no matter what the Bible demands.” He resumed his walk.

In the end both Tony and Cait had been wrong but the young man hadn't been so far off. It hadn't been the priest but his assistant, who feared that spending so much time counseling the woman would lead his beloved boss astray.

 

.-#-.

 

“I can defend myself,” Tony sleepily said and stretched a little bit more under Jethro's hands. The second towel slipped down when he moved and allowed a mere hint of the crack between the Feline's ass cheeks to appear.

The older man concentrated on a knot at his nape, coaxed the muscles to loosen up a bit. “Is that so?”

Tony moaned when the pain in his neck lessened and blinked up at him. “You don't need to fight my battles.”

Gibbs lips twitched. “I didn't. And Tony?”

“Hm?”

“Don't call her names again.”

“No matter how much she deserves them? She is a bitch. Pretty, but a bitch.”

Gibbs pinned him down with a look.

“That's a no,” Tony pouted. “But I can prank her?”

“As long as I don't catch you. Beware, she is feisty and will get you back,” Jethro conceded and resumed his massage, paying special attention to the still damaged areas. The rashes had nearly healed completely, a few days more and they would disappear. The more the rough spots lessened the more his Feline grew comfortable with being touched.

The more Jethro grew comfortable with touching Tony as well.

There wasn't anything overtly erotic about the twice-daily massages but they sure were sensual. The soft sounds of enjoyment Tony was making, beautiful skin that practically begged to be petted and stroked and the responsive way the younger man had begun to react just made it harder to stay unemotional himself. On impulse his hands, the cream that had coated them long ago used up, wandered to Tony's spine, where the fur was fullest, and stroked there, rubbing down vertebra after vertebra from neck to nearly the small of his back.

Jethro stilled with regret. It wasn't right to provoke an upset reaction just because he wanted an excuse to stop what he was doing.

Instead of stiffening, like he would have expected, the Feline's purr grew in volume and he arched his back, practically begging wordlessly for the fingers to resume what they had been doing.

Was it possible for both of them to succumb to Stockholm’s Syndrome? Both of them were hostages of circumstance but Tony was the one with even less power and more dependent on Gibbs' goodwill. He should really back off and try to analyze this situation objectively before someone got hurt. Yes, he liked the exotic young man, he had a good heart and his courage showed in his readiness to take on his new circumstances head on, to make the best of it.

Whatever he was feeling, how much was conditioning, how much was genuine feelings?

Jethro checked Tony's face. The Feline had closed his eyes almost all the way, his lips were slack and his facial muscles relaxed, he appeared on the cusp of sleep. Jethro deftly, surely stroked down his back, sleeked down any tufts of fur he had ruffled earlier. He only stopped when Tony was fully asleep.

Then he pulled up the blankets, tugged them around the slumbering man and silently left the small bedroom.

 

.-#-.

 

In the morning it was Tony who got up first, not the former marine. When Gibbs stumbled into the kitchen on the hunt for his drug of choice he was greeted by a full pot of coffee and two sandwiches that had been wrapped into serviettes and placed on a plate beside his favorite big blue cup. No Tony.

Gibbs bit into a sandwich and filled up the cup, then he went to look for the missing man. Tony had taken to doing his daily required 'tiger time' in the mornings. He couldn't hear anyone else moving in the house, so that left the garden. Pulling aside the curtains of the big window in the seldom used living room produced a cloud of dust and he coughed. He would have to leave a note for the cleaning lady.

Outside the dawn shown down on the crisply piled snow, the flakes no longer falling as they had been through the night. The kids on his street would love all the fresh white stuff. A movement to the left caught his attention and he laughed. The kids weren't the only ones enjoying the big white blanket of snow. Tony in tiger form was rolling around, tail and big paws in the air more often than not, burning energy. Chunks of snow went flying and the sleek Feline batted at them and shook himself whenever the clumps dissolved into a powdery mass that inevitably would hit him in the face.

Deciding to be spontaneous, Gibbs put on his outside wear over his sleep pants, stuck his naked feet into his boots and went outside to watch the spectacle more closely. The tiger seemed to get frustrated with the snow not giving him a good enemy, his huffing sounded annoyed after he had to shake off another snowy rain to his face. Gibbs waded through the knee high snow, getting soaked to the skin on his legs, to the door on the back of his garage, opened it and returned a little time later with rope and a piece of hard wood he normally used to keep the garage door from closing fully when it was windy. The board had a hole at one end that he used to hang it up when it wasn't needed. He fastened the rope around a low branch of the old chestnut tree that grew in the middle of his back lawn, the other end through the wood and secured the make-shift construction with a sailor's knot.

Tony had watched him with his big tiger head curiously tilted to the side and was now making an approving rumbling sound.

“Try not to hurt yourself.” Gibbs cautioned and then went back to the cup of coffee that he'd left on a window sill.

After a few careful tries with the wood bouncing harmlessly off his body, Tony seemed to conquer the mechanics of this improvised battling device. His paw hit the piece of wood, made it swing. The tiger skillfully avoided being hit on the rebound and another forceful paw strike would send it in another direction. It looked like he was getting quite the workout while having a lot of fun.

The loud tiger sport had lured another spectator. One of Gibbs' neighbors, a middle aged man, was standing on his side of the fence and was staring open mouthed at the tiger Feline. His right hand held a snow-shovel, explaining what he had been doing up so soon.

Gibbs, warming his hands on his cup, went over to him. He could guess that the man would have some questions. Better to answer them now before someone came running with a rifle or called animal control. He had completely forgotten that, even if the ground his house stood on wasn't small, he still had other people living near who would react badly to seeing a huge predator living among them.

“Morning Mr. Oppenheim.”

“Gibbs! Man, are you crazy?! You should have informed the Neighborhood Council before you bought such a dangerous animal. Not that we would have allowed it. How can that be legal at all? What if it attacks one of the kids?” The man puffed himself up self-importantly and waved his shovel as if to prepare himself for defense.

“He is a Feline, a Shape-shifter. Not a real tiger.”

That made the man pause for a moment. “Oh. I've never seen one for real, just heard stories. But still, it's a damn huge ass tiger! It's dangerous. I'm calling the police.”

Tony had stopped his play and run up to the two men, huffing from the exercise and sat down beside Gibbs on his haunches.

Gibbs thought of the stars and stripes banner that was holding pride of place hanging on this man's car's rear view window. Oppenheim replaced it every year with a fresh one when the colors faded too much from exposure to the sun. “Sir, Tony here is harmless. I got him from the President, out of his personal Stables as a reward and surely President Hayes would never accept something dangerous in his home. I am sorry that you're upset but as you might know, it is forbidden to cause any publicity if you own a Feline. It's seen as bad taste too.”

Tony did his best impression of big fluffy cat who wouldn't harm a fly. He even politely held up his right paw in greeting. What a charmer. A little bit more and Mr. Oppenheim's eyes would pop out of their holes in astonishment.

“Oh my.” The man cautiously reached through the fence with his hand, in direction of Tony's face, not his paw, visibly feeling like a real hero for his daring. “May I?”

Tony retreated behind Gibbs' legs. “He's shy. I'll introduce you properly when he's in his human form.”

Oppenheim pulled his hand back and shoved his woolen cap more out of his face, leaning the shovel against the fence. “I have to say, he is quite the sight. So he wouldn't... harm the kids?”

“I'm a federal agent, I wouldn't accept someone like that in my home.” Gibbs could nearly see the wheels turn in his neighbor's head.

“It is really forbidden to announce if you have a Feline?” he asked.

“You can get fined severely if you try to use them for PR or anything like it. No newspaper would take this story on. Presidential decree.” Even the report about the rescue at the marina had only danced around the fact that a Feline had been involved. Gibbs stared into his empty cup. “I was quite busy at work and I only got him a few days ago. I should have gone from door to door and warned people because you're right, seeing a tiger stroll around could have caused a panic.”

“Oh don't worry, nothing happened. I know how busy you are. Nearly never at home, are you? And I guess he accompanies you everywhere. Now, my feet are getting wet, thanks for the talk. See you!”

Gibbs nodded and watched the man hurry back into his reindeer decorated home with all its twinkling lights wound around the windows. He would take any bet that this story would be around the neighborhood within hours. The agent wouldn't have to do it himself at all, everyone would know. Maybe he should go for a run sometime soon with Tony as a human by his side to further calm some ruffled feathers and convince everyone that, while exotic, the Feline wasn't a menace.

It was high time to get ready for work. Man and Feline entered the house again and to Gibbs astonishment Tony morphed right in front of his eyes for the first time. It wasn't like watching one of those fancy computer simulations Abby loved so much but more real, kind of disturbing to see muscles rearrange under skin and a skeletal frame changing shape, hair practically retreating into skin. The part that made him wince was when the jaw popped out of alignment and moments later popped back, now with more human looking teeth that were visible due to pulled back lips.

Tony was shaking his head from side to side like he wanted to dispel something nasty out of his ears. “I can bite, I just don't want to and his kids would probably give me indigestion anyways.”

“Tony....”

The naked, trembling man paced up and down in front of Gibbs, his eyes desperate. “This is one of the more harmless reactions I'll get till the day I die. All this shit, all this shit just because of a fluke of nature. Can you fault me for being angry?”

“No Tony, I can't.” Gibbs reached out and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulders, squeezing it and not removing his hand, not canceling the caring touch, when his Feline leaned against his palm.

“It will never change. It's not like the Civil Rights Movement or the Feminist Movement. There are so few Felines, we will never be part of the human masses.” Tony whispered, got nearer to Gibbs and rested his forehead against his shoulder. “Do you know how rare you are?”

Gibbs made a startled movement. “Rare?”

“You always saw just me, fur or no fur. Just me; Tony. You didn't care even before I changed from A'thon to Tony. Never treat me much different from your agents when we're at work. Yeah, I don't have their education or the experience but you tailor your reactions to that, not what I am.”

Gibbs put his other hand to Tony's neck and then down his back in a mirror of what he'd done the night before. He didn't know what to say so he simply waited till the body under his hands stopped shaking.

“Come on, eat something and then we have to hurry. We're already late.”

 

.-#-.


	8. Claim your place

When Tony took off his coat in the office Gibbs did a classic double take. He had waited for him outside by the car so he hadn't seen Tony before he had come down from upstairs. Instead of wearing his collar and the tag under his turtleneck he wore it outside. There, for all the world to see, everyone who was interested could read who the Feline belonged to. It seemed as if Tony was done with hiding.

Gibbs didn't know what he should think about it but if Tony was ready to face the facts, he should be too, shouldn't he?

A female voice calling his name from the stairs made him look up. Jen Sheppard, today in a deep red costume and a new, very short pixie haircut, was coming down. Didn't she have anything else to do, like leading the agency instead of pestering her agents?

“You're late.”

Gibbs stood up but let her come to him. “Happens to the best of us.” And it meant that he would have to let it go the next time one of his agents was late. Just once.

The director spared a friendly nod for his two agents and then looked Tony up and down with a much cooler one. Her inspection stopped at his neck. A deep, very unbecoming wrinkle formed on her forehead.

Tony was busy personalizing his desk area. He had pinned the printout of a classic Christmas movie poster, 'It's a wonderful Life' (featuring James Stuart dipping Donna Reed) and a second one that featured Zombie-Snowmen, of all inane things, on the room divider behind his back and now added a statistic he had cut out from today's newspaper. Gibbs' good eyesight allowed him to decipher that it had something to do with how the holidays influenced crimes over the years.

“You might want to tell him not to bother.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Because Christmas is nearly over?”

“No, because that desk will be needed after the holidays. I found the perfect fourth member for the Major Crimes Response Team, you'll like her.” Sheppard smiled at him and crossed her arms across her torso. A move that, apart from showing resolve, also nicely accentuated her assets. “A very capable woman I have worked with before, from Mossad.”

What the hell would he do with an Israeli assassin? Gibbs didn't know who she wanted to impress with this, or who she owned a favor that was now being called in, but he wouldn't have it. “No.”

“No?” Sheppard stepped forward and invaded his personal space.

Gibbs showed no reaction. “No.” He repeated without any inflection at all. Did Jen really want to try and make a power play in the the middle of the bullpen, maybe with the hope that he wouldn't embarrass her in front of agents?

“Agent Gibbs, the command structure is easy enough to understand. You;” she pointed at his chest “Supervisory Agent who has to take orders from me;” the finger got turned around, “the Director.”

“That might be, Madame Director, but only if those orders don't contradict existing rules. Like a team leader has first pick when it comes to his team roster.” He pitched his voice low. His icy blue glare held her hazel one, not giving an inch.

“A team leader also has the duty to keep his team at full capacity. For the MCRT that means four agents, which you have avoided accomplishing for the last seven months! I can't have my most important team one member short. Until you are willing to choose a fourth member, I will choose for you.” With that last salvo the Director turned on her heel and stalked slowly away, her head held high.

He should have taken more time buttering her up, then maybe she wouldn't try so hard but her attitude didn't make any sense to him. Calling him by his first name sometimes; insisting on him using her title one second but asking him out for dinner the next sent out some very mixed signals and it was unprofessional of her to boot. Gibbs sat down again and looked around. All three team members were occupied with something and much too focused for it to be genuine.

“You three won't win any acting awards soon.”

Tony's fingers were resting protectively on the pin he had pressed into a corner of the article that accompanied the statistic. “Should I take them down again?” he asked, negating any possible doubt that he hadn't listened in. His smile wasn't reaching his eyes.

“No. If she insists there's an unused desk in the cubicle there.” Gibbs pointed at one of the two small cubicles at the end of their row. They had been left over from when he had rearranged the furniture and dividers in this aisle to his tastes after becoming team leader. Nobody liked to use them: they were too small, too far away from their own teams, too near the stairs and most importantly, just on the other side of the divider from Gibbs.

“Get back to your reports. I want them on my desk before 1700.”

It wasn't the last time that day they were invaded by female forces but the next one was much more welcome. They heard her before she walked into sight, the sound of her platform boots heralding the arrival of their favorite Goth forensic lab tech extraordinaire, Abby Sciuto.

“I am back and I bring presents!” she chirped, and did a little pirouette to give the gift bags in her hands a little extra swing.

“Abby! I thought your first day back was tomorrow?” McGee nearly fell out of his chair in his haste to reach the newcomer. Then he sent a panicked look at Gibbs.

Who did he think he was fooling here? The probationary agent wore his heart on his sleeve and never more so than just a moment before when he was staring like a lovestruck teenager at the vision in front of him: their very own Mistress of the Dark, all black hair, black lips, big light green eyes, black lace blouse, plaid miniskirt that showcased her long slender legs, and platform boots. Maybe the team leader should tell him that Gibbs thought that Abby was perfectly able to defend her honor herself and didn't need him. In the meantime McGee could use the practice to improve his poker face.

“Miami was awesome, they let me take a look at their crime lab, it's all shiny. They have that new portable fingerprint scanner. My purse wasn't big enough to smuggle one of those babies back. A pity, I would have taken such good care of it.” She beamed. “I caught an earlier flight and then thought, hey, use the time to surprise the Bossman, Timmy and Cait! Guys, don't just stand there... don't you want to know what I've got you? It's a combined Christmas-souvenir present.” Then her eyes fell on Tony and grew even wider. Gibbs could see the white all around her irises.

“You must be Tony! Tim told me so much about you. Wow, look at you, the Boss really has good taste. Hi, I'm Abby Sciuto, resident forensic Goddess. You are the first human with an active Feline gene I've ever met personally.”

The poor Feline, faced with so much enthusiastic attention, had an alarmed expression on his face the moment she honed in on him, eyes wary, hands tense enough to be white-knuckled around the stapler he was holding. When Abby just beamed at him, bounced over and stuck out her right hand, a shy grin appeared on his lips and he reached out to shake her hand.

“I am Tony. Nice to meet you, Miss Sciuto.”

“Call me Abby.” She placed her gift bags on the Feline's desk and dug into them. First she pulled out a CD case and something that looked like a book under all that - matching the gift bags – in metallic pink wrapping paper. Both items got handed over to Todd. Then something small that ended in a blushing McGee's fingers.

Gibbs eyed his own wrapped present with mixed emotions. The Goth always put a lot of thought into her gifts but she had a taste as strange as her clothes sometimes. That made opening them in front of others chancy.

“For me?” The exclamation made Gibbs look up from the beautiful handcrafted wooden alligator he had found under the paper. He had to shift to the side to get a better view of Tony, Abby was standing in the way.

She was holding out another strangely shaped parcel. “I didn't know what you would like so I went with something touristy.”

Tony slowly took the offering and began to remove the paper, taking care not to tear it.

“Yeah, it know it is a little bit tacky but I found it in a store full of stuff made of shells and...” Abby nervously babbled.

“Thank you, I like it.” The little palm tree made of copper wire with shells as the leaves was carefully placed beside Tony's monitor. Little glittering letters, spelling out MIAMI, swung from the shells.

Gibbs re-wrapped his own present and put it into his coat pocket. It would find a place at his home on one of the bookshelves. He got up to press a kiss against Abs temple. It earned him a delighted smile but then the lure of one of her interests got too strong and she hopped up on the Feline's desk and stared at him expectantly while the gray haired agent returned to his work.

“There are so many rumors and theories on the message boards, it's so great that now I can ask you, some of that stuff kept niggling and niggling and niggling at me!”

McGee, eyes wide and hands waving around, tried to reign the enthusiastic Goth in. “Abby, Abby, I remember you writing me in that email that he isn't allowed to talk much about it because of some big conspiracy? He'll get into trouble!”

Tony's fingers, which had been playing with the little swinging letters, stilled. “I can't tell you names and some things are classified but as long as you don't try to publish anything, there are some general things I can share,” he cautioned.

Gibbs tensed. His Feline had offered answers but the agent doubted that he knew what he was in for. In a world and a profession that saw too many hardened and cynical souls, Abby was a bright light. She would never mean harm but sometimes her scientific curiosity got the better of her. The whole topic of Felines was a minefield and digging deeper without a sign first that it was allowed had Gibbs holding back his own questions. After the morphing side effect debacle he had sent one or two e-mails with questions to Williams about the pitfalls which would most likely come to bite him in the ass if he didn't know them. The personal ones could wait a few more weeks.

“Some people here don't have a free day. Three little questions Abs and if he says no, don't dig. Got it?” He ordered.

“Aye, aye, three questions coming up. It isn't as if he'll disappear overnight, I can grill him another time.” Abby gave him a sharp salute and then stared down at her victim. “The stuff some people speculate about, you wouldn't believe it. So, question one. All that going into heat rumors, they aren't true, yes? It sounded really stupid.”

Of course anyone in hearing range had ceased to do anything resembling productive work when the lab rat had appeared and was now more or less openly playing spectator.

Tony had gone pale. “No, not true.”

“Two, Abs.” Gibbs growled and leaned back in his chair, slightly opening his legs, stretching them. He looked everyone in the face who was paying attention to his cubicle.

Abby opened her mouth, most likely to protest, then took in his body language, let her eyes wander to the director's secretary who was blatantly listening in from the stairs, from there over the agent who was leaning over the divider. “Two. OK. Does morphing hurt?”

“First time hurt like a bitch.” Tony began, not looking at anyone, jawline tight, one hand touching the tag on his collar, fumbling with it. “But now it's not so bad. More like a muscle strain after a good long workout and it fades fast.”

“Three.” Gibbs counted and by now anyone who had a speck of self-preservation was scrambling to at least not catch his direct attention. Tim McGee and Caitlin Todd had, instead, come nearer to Tony's desk but their boss could read concern, not morbid curiosity in the way they now flanked the Feline's desk. Cait taking up position against the room divider, Tim standing beside the file cabinet. Todd might not approve of the newest addition to their dysfunctional family but rue the idiot who dared to intrude.

“What is your favorite dish.”

“Uhm.” Tony blinked. “Pizza.”

“Thank you!” Abby stood up and collected her empty bags, her smile a tad less bright and more apologetic. “I know a great Italian restaurant, they even deliver, not just pizza either. Next time the team pulls an all-nighter the food's on me. And now I'll go before the Bossman gets more growly.”

Tony looked at Gibbs, his gaze lingering on the way he sat. Their eyes met, held, and the moment stretched into a minute before Tony lowered his eyes.

“More growly? That's possible? Ouch.” Tony watched her dance away and then snatched a pencil to studiously resume spell checking his file.

The rest of the day Gibbs made sure that Tony wasn't alone for a moment. Some of the too curious glances of occupants of the bullpen didn't sit well with him, made his gut tighten. To him it seemed as if Abby's appearance and questions had served as a sort of 'go ahead sign' for nosy individuals who wanted to ask their own questions as well as some human predators. When the younger man had to go to the head, he followed after four minutes. He entered the restroom silently.

Tony was standing at the sink, washing his hands and ignoring the young clerk from accounting who was standing beside him. Far too close beside him for Gibbs' taste and it raised his hackles. Gibbs had observed his Feline enough by now to know that he wasn't happy about the attention himself. Tony only stood that way, with his chin angled upwards, when he felt cornered, no matter how casually he tried to reach around the intruder to get a paper towel.

Before the clerk could make his move - a comment, an inappropriate touch, anything - and the cocky grin said loud and clear that he wanted to, he caught sight of Gibbs over Tony's shoulders and thought better of it. Suddenly he had something important waiting for him somewhere else and after a tense nod to the agent he fled the room.

Tony calmly dried his hands and discarded the towel in the bin. “Huh, and here I thought that civilized humans washed their hands after using the toilet.”

Gibbs didn't try to pretend that he was here to relieve himself. He listened for a moment to hear if there was someone else present and then leaned back against the door so nobody would be able to enter. “You okay, Tony?”

“Yeah. It's not Miss Sciuto's fault. I thought I was ready but...”

“Come here.” Tony came to him, his eyes full of doubts and shadows. Gibbs slowly stroked over his neck.“You did well.”

“I nearly bolted like a rabbit when I heard her first question. And everyone listening heard it as well. You know, when I was in college and afterward, I liked it when people looked at me and thought of sex. Hell, my frat name was Sex-machine. And I was proud of it. Very proud. So stupid.” His voice broke, he visibly gulped. “Then… at the Stables. It's funny... you know we're not even trained in the sexual arts so much, it's more like we're trained to entertain. Music, debate, etc... and yet, the first thing people think about with Felines is sex?”

Another stroke, up, down. Ruffling the baby-soft fur, calming it down again.

Gibbs wanted to tell him that in a few weeks the Feline would be just another, if very handsome, face in the crowd but that was no help in the now, this moment, for the distressed younger man. He gave him another minute, just to breathe away from prying eyes. Soon some angry agent with a full bladder would bang on the closed door and demand to know what the hell was wrong. And they didn't need that spectacle, not today. “You still owe me that report.”

Tony took a step back and looked aside, his cheeks suspiciously red. “You don't need it for the official case file, surely? I'm not an agent.”

“I want it to be complete.” Gibbs opened the door and held it open for his companion. When Tony stepped out he came to a decision and reached out, let his fingers deliberately linger on the name chiseled into the precious metal tag. Anyone sane watching them, and someone always did, would now know better than to touch something that belonged to him.

 

.-#-.

 

McGee was with them in the elevator that evening, both younger men standing behind Gibbs.

“You know Tony, you can call me Tim. If you want.” the computer geek offered hesitantly.

“Thanks Tim.”

Gibbs closed his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck while remembering Tony's face, the way it had gone shy for the blink of an eye, when Abby had offered him the use of her given name and how he always, apart from Gibbs, called everyone with their full name and title. Someone else had caught it too, it seemed. One year soon Timothy McGee would make one hell of an investigator.

 

.-#-.


	9. Defend

Tony's skin felt smooth, not a rash to see or feel beneath his fingers that night, but Jethro kept to their established evening routine anyway, taking note of the fact that there were no longer ribs more visible than was healthy with every pass and only stopped when Tony had fallen asleep under his touch. And when the Feline handed him the pot of cream in the morning he didn't protest.

 

.-#-.

 

“Special Agent Gibbs? The director wants to see you as soon as possible.” Sheppard's secretary had been waiting for them in their cubicle in the morning and, after delivering her message, stood there as a sentry to make sure that those orders were followed. Now, not when Gibbs wanted to.

Both men shrugged out of their winter coats, both of them rolling their eyes at the thought of another round with Madame Director. Tony took up position slightly behind and to the side of his owner.

“Ah.” The secretary cleared her throat. “I think she wants to see you alone.”

If this was another ploy to get into his pants, Gibbs would seriously consider filing a sexual harassment suit just to get her out of proximity to his pants and not incidentally the rest of him. Scandal or no scandal, at this point, Jen had it coming to her. It had been her that had broken it off long ago and, considering the way his thoughts tended to wander towards a male green eyed someone, he should consider himself taken and off the market and so should she. This was getting ridiculous. Maybe he should tell her. And then duck to avoid whatever she would throw at him.

In the meantime...“The second drawer of my desk there are a few cold case files. Take one and try to find new leads.”

“Really?” Tony looked at the drawer, than at him. “I'll do my best.”

Gibbs, instead of immediately following his guard, took a moment to watch as Tony rounded his desk with more enthusiasm in his step than the lead agent normally got as reaction from assigning cold case files. When he bent over the slacks not only showcased a very nice looking backside, it also made the collar and tag tangle. Blue eyes contemplated the not very safety conscious arrangement. Hm, that was something else he should take care of.

“Agent Gibbs?” his guard dog was getting impatient.

“Coming.” At least it would be the Director's office, not the bullpen this time. He knew from experience, his working relationship with Morrow hadn't been always smooth either, that it was very nicely soundproofed. He swiftly walked into the room. “Director Sheppard?”

The director was sitting behind her desk, her reading glasses on her nose and a file in her manicured hands. “Gibbs. What the hell is THIS?” She threw the file down so it skittered over the polished surface of the desk and nearly slipped over the edge. The other three piles were given a shove as well.

Gibbs took a look. “Looks like the request for leave I submitted two days ago. You've studied my file, know how late I am sometimes with the requisitions and evaluations. You must know that HR is on my case for the amount of leave time I have accumulated.”

“Yes,” The angry red-head pressed out between her teeth, “but that does not explain the rest of this...travesty.”

“I offered to combine that leave-time with a stint as an instructor at FLETC. Half and half, so the longer vacation could be approved. McGee can help the Cyber Unit while I am gone and Todd can work with another team.”

Sheppard sprang up from her chair and pressed her right palm to the surface of her desk and used her other hand to poke at another printed sheet of paper that sported a lot of signatures. “All this so that your Feline can take some of the courses, with you! Are you insane?! And you arranged it by doing an end run around me.”

That had been fast, Gibbs hadn't thought that his requests would get a reaction within days. Williams, SecNav and Hayes must have liked his idea a lot. Sheppard did not.

“A Feline at FLETC, attending courses?! He must be quite the lay if you lower your standards that far.”

Gibbs gazed at her from beneath slightly lowered eyelids, concealing his disdain at her reactions. If he hadn't seen her handle difficult officials and politicians alike when they worked as partners in Europe he would really question the sanity of whoever had given her this job. Maybe it was just he who affected her like that.

“Matters concerning Felines are always handled directly by the White House. Unearthing his old degree in criminal psychology and transcribing it into his official NCIS file never fell within your power. And you should know, better than most, that I never base my professional actions on how good someone is between the sheets.” He could have added that in her case it hadn't been that memorable either way, but he had to work with her in the future, no reason to get her mad. Well, more mad.

“But making sure that some under-qualified, hormone driven and morally deficient Agent is not running around with an NCIS badge, that is easily within my power.”

He didn't want to explain himself further. He didn't want to explain at all but, again, she would have influence on both his and Tony's working environment. “He will never be a full special agent, he lacks the legal status, but this way he can be a useful, productive part of my team. His old handler agrees. First he has to pass all his entrance and evaluation tests and then the regular classes.” Tony had shown him that he had the instincts to be a good investigator, he had pegged the right direction for their last case well enough. He was good at reading people, a fast learner, had expressed his interest for the job, even stated that he had originally wanted to be a cop. And he was painfully eager to carve himself a place in this new life.

“You better make sure that he earns those passing grades, on his feet, and they'd better be spectacular.”

If she wanted to play it that way, he could oblige. “Madame Director. You know, I'm only satisfied with the best and don't like cheats.” Gibbs carefully shuffled the paperwork into a tidy pile and waited till she was reaching for it before adding, “And I don't share, ever. Is that all?”

Jen Sheppard did her best to compose her facial muscles, regaining some dignity, only partially succeeding. “I've taken you off active cases until your team is fully staffed. Dismissed.”

“Director.” Gibbs turned sharply on his heel and left the office.

 

.-#-.

 

“We're officially off active rotation people.” His announcement was taken as a mixed blessing.

“That means no overtime, we get to go home punctually!” Todd grinned appreciatively and then she and McGee exchanged a long, less happy look.

“Cold cases,” They said at the same time.

Tony laughed at them, his eyes sparkling and he must have carded his fingers through his hair, it was standing up on end. He held up two files. “You can take one of mine. To each our own copy or will this be a group effort?”

For a moment it looked as if Agent Todd would say something but then she came over to take a look. “The Jennings case, abduction. Pukov, sabotage of ordinance. Why did you choose these?” she asked after reading the cover letters.

“They didn't make sense.” Tony raised his shoulders in a gesture of confusion.

Those hadn't been cases from his team. They routinely swapped cold cases with other teams in the hope that new, fresh eyes would spot something the original investigators had missed. “We work with better arguments than 'doesn't make sense' Tony, elaborate.”

Tony took on the challenge and after a moment to collect his thoughts began. “Okay. Why would they leave the hostage alive, escape and not take the money. They could have, easily. And the ordinance...hell, if a soldier fresh out of basic could spot that something wasn't right, what was the point of trying to get them on one of the battleships?” His newest recruit spoke fast and steeled himself for reactions to his reasoning.

“Good enough.” Gibbs nodded. “Todd, check up on everyone involved in the Jennings case, McGee, the same for the ordinance, take the military aspect and Tony, you the contractor people. I'll interview the Jennings family again.”

“You really took psychology classes?” Todd asked Tony on her way back to her place.

“Yes.”

“Abby's present to me was a book by Huntington Kru.”

Tony wrinkled his nose and tipped his pencil against the surface. “He's a famous FBI Profiler.”

“He did a presentation at the conference in Miami. Abby knows that I admire his work. Do you want to borrow the book and recording when I'm done with it?”

Tony smiled brightly and tossed her the stress ball. “Yeah, sure! Thank you Special Agent Todd.”

Cait tossed it back and before this could escalate into full out war Gibbs growled at them. “Work, people!”

“Yes, Boss!”

Tony tossed him the ball and without thinking much about it, the former sniper tossed it back with precision and it crashed against the younger man's chest before he could catch it.

“Ouch! You wound me, Boss. I'm already feeling the bruise grow...”

“Never let a marine take pot shots at you, with your own weapon, and then complain.” Gibbs suppressed a grin and made his next order sharp. It wouldn't do to make them think he was going soft. “Check those names!”

 

.-#-.

 

There was indeed a small bruise on Tony's chest in the evening and while it wasn't the only one he sported, it was curiously, the only one he was complaining about. Loudly and incessantly until his boss threatened to shoot the next ball to his forehead and knock him out, just to shut him up. Maybe Gibbs would mourn the early, coltish shy and more silent days because they were mostly gone. Well, no, he wouldn't... but boy could that young man talk!

Gibbs lightened his touch whenever he came near the nearly purple bruise that had bloomed on his shoulder, a result of breaking a fall incorrectly and only skimmed across the other one that decorated Tony's left lower ribcage. That one had to especially hurt. Ducky had reassured both of them that no ribs had been damaged, just a deep bruise and then had lit into Agent and Feline both for not taking better care.

They had gotten nowhere with their two cold cases and by mid afternoon the team had grown so restless that their fearless leader had ushered them down to the gym before they could stage a mutiny. Nobody else would be allowed to spar with Tony for now, so he paired Todd and McGee and took on Tony himself. Gibbs could hear Tim murmuring something about being glad to have updated his will and didn't find it insulting in the least that his computer geek would gladly oppose his boss in the ring on any day if he could get out of going a round against Caitlin Todd: that woman was scary. One of the reasons why he had snatched her for his team.

Tony had cheerfully put on Gibbs' second set of workout clothes and then, after doing a decent warm up and talking the whole time, for Gods sake, climbed into the boxing ring, not even minding that they had again gained an audience. Tony wasn't bad, he knew some moves that looked suspiciously like street fighting style and some that were classic boxing but he didn't know how to fight. That would change, Gibbs would make sure.

Tonight Tony wasn't going to sleep under his hands. He was contentedly and quietly purring but one of his hands tensed and relaxed in the sheets.

“So thoughtful?” Gibbs asked and used his thumbs on both sides of the younger man's spine to release some tension in the muscles there. Talking was a break in the routine they had established but he could see that there was something bothering Tony. He continued with his ministrations, minutes went by and it seemed like Tony wouldn't answer but then he rolled over, forcing Gibbs to back off to look at him fully.

Tony sat up, carefully making sure that he was covered. They had abandoned using the ceiling light for the smaller bedside lamps a few nights ago. “Do you want me to reciprocate?” the younger man finally asked.

What the hell? “Reciprocate? You don't have to feel obliged to-”

“I want to. I got a few hits in too, not many, but some. You're limping a bit. And avoiding using your right shoulder.” Tony looked torn between triumph and concern. He held up both hands, a big, fake smile on his full lips. “Meet the magic hands of OSU, my football buddies swore by them, honest.”

Even an innocent little massage would be another step in a direction that seemed to get both more inevitable and riddled with landmines by the hour. Should he stop putting the brakes on and maybe, most importantly, give Tony the chance to take the initiative?

Now it was Jethro who had taken too long and from the way Tony's eyes dimmed he guessed that it had taken the younger man a lot of nerves to offer this kindness.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have....” The younger man reached for the sheets, Jethro caught his arm by the wrist and, locking his eyes with Tony's, gave it a soft squeeze and a light stroke over the back of the hand.

“Just a massage.” Jethro murmured and stood up, began to unbutton his shirt.

“For now?” Tony chanced.

“For now.” Gibbs shed his over shirt, folded it precisely and put it on the dresser, then repeated the process with his T-shirt, pants and socks. He left his briefs. Going through boot camp and afterward living with a horde of other soldiers in the middle of a war torn land had cured him of any ounce of shame when it came to nakedness but it wasn't his feelings he had to take into consideration here. He could feel the younger man's eyes on his body and, not obviously, let him take his time to look at the outer hull of what he was getting attached to. How someone looked didn't define the person inside but it could give some good hints. How Jethro lived was written on his body, the way he kept it fit, the scars that told their stories and the way it had been conditioned to move. Maybe-

There was a small stack of extra towels lying on the dresser. Jethro fetched one and then took off his briefs too. He had seen the younger man without a stitch on, now they were a little more even. But being naked wasn't only about being even, it also could telegraph a certain kind of aggression and thus Jethro, not fast but not slow either, wound the towel around his waist and then lay down on the spot Tony had freed up for him and closed his eyes, giving over control to Tony.

The bed dipped a little bit when Tony took position. Jethro could hear the tub of moisturizer cream being opened and then felt a warm touch on each side of his upper spine. At first he tried to keep himself relaxed but after the first minute that wasn't needed anymore. Magic hands was putting it mildly, that boy knew what he was doing and when another muscle that Jethro had long learned to ignore when it got hard as stone relaxed he couldn't help but moan appreciatively.

Tony chuckled delightedly. “You really should learn to relax more, you're stiff as a board.”

“That's what Ducky always tells me.” Jethro answered. “You know that I wouldn't keep you from developing a relationship with someone else.” This was as good a situation as it would get for this conversation.

Tony's hands stilled only for a short moment and then took up their gentle crusade to make him relax again. “I guessed, you made it pretty clear those first days that you would let me live a life that resembles a normal human's as far as possible, as much as I wanted. Would you trust my word if I say that I don't see a reason to search for it outside these four walls?”

Gibbs tensed up again and the gentle crusade turned not so gentle. All the communicating they had done, it had for the most part been non-verbal, which was the older man's preferred method but even he knew that it sometimes left a lot to be desired.

“Don't undo all my hard work.” Tony murmured. Another minute went by. “I can't understand why you think so little of your own qualifications as a partner that you doubt I could want you genuinely. I know about Stockholm syndrome, criminal psychology minor, remember? I just don't think it applies to my situation. I don't need to be rescued, you are not taking advantage, and as you said, you are not my only option for... nearness. But, a question for you.”

“Yeah?”

Tony leaned forward until his mouth was near Jethro's ear and the prone man could feel warm breath feathering over sensitive skin. “Point being, I don't want to but, would YOU want me to look for someone else? Touching someone else intimately, sleeping curled around them after pleasuring each other?”

No matter how much he wanted to deny it, the mental picture of Tony with someone else made him jerk in revulsion.

“Yeah, thought so too.” Tony softly said and resumed his massage.

Jethro lay there, thoughts chasing each other in his head and his tired body enjoying the attention of talented hands. At some point his body won the fight for dominance against his brain and when he woke up in the morning it was under the blankets and with a tiger draped over the foot of the bed.

 

.-#-.

 

When Gibbs checked on his lantern the next morning somebody had already taken care of keeping the little flame alive.

 

.-#-.


	10. Love

Step 10: Love

 

Gibbs had never bought into the whole Christmas craze, felt the need to take part in the Secret Santa game someone organized for the agency every year, or encouraged his team to exchange gifts. If they wanted to, that was their prerogative. Nobody had dared to give him anything for years for fear of being accused of brown nosing. Thus he was at first astonished by the little object that had appeared on his desk while he went to speak with Ducky about doing the required physical Tony would need for his acceptance at FLETC.

It was a small but detailed origami sailboat made of office paper and checking the other desks he could see McGee holding up a crouching origami tiger and Cait was smiling at the paper bloom someone had placed on her computer monitor. It wasn't that hard to guess who that someone had been.

“Nice boat. Just out of interest Tony, what did you make Abs and Ducky?” he asked the Feline when they both went to the break room to refill their cups. Gibbs watched in horrified fascination as the younger man tortured his poor coffee with cream and too much sugar and decided to file that under need for fuel, not bad taste.

“I learned Origami on a dare in College and one of the instructors at the Stables, before they forced my 'Virgin Morph, refined that. He said I should invest more time in precision than useless rebellion. Ah, be that as it may... I couldn't think of anything else I could use to procure some presents. I did a flower for Abby too, I don't know how to do skulls. I just asked one of the secretaries for gray sheets of paper and some glitter to pep hers up. Dr Mallard got a dragon. That reminds me, I have to get the rest of the good paper back to the copy room.”

 

.-#-.

 

“Gibbs! Come with me, fast. It's your Feline.” Paccí was grim faced and since the other Agent was a capable team leader Gibbs trusted his judgment. He sprang up and hurried after the Agent, aware that Cait and Tim had stopped what they had been doing and were running after him.

Somehow he wasn't surprised that he was led to the copy room. When he had passed the spectators that crowded the hallway, what gave him pause was the scene he found within. Two agents were holding Tony by the arms to one side and Jen Sheppard, with her stylish blouse torn, was standing at the other side of the room. A female agent was in the process of carefully hanging a jacket around her shoulder. All of them were glaring daggers at Tony and it didn't take a genius to add two and two but Gibbs, in contrast to the other agents and security guards in the room came up with the correct four, and not five.

Tony wasn't struggling against the men holding him, his face was drawn and very pale with a nice set of deep claw marks down one cheek. He was breathing fast and Gibbs could read grim determination in his eyes.

“Special Agent Gibbs, you will remove that animal from the Yard, it tried to...” Sheppard faltered, shuddered a little bit and then shook her head. “Well, let's not go there. It's not fit for human society and should be put down, next time it might be a helpless secretary that gets hurt.” The red-head adjusted the jacket and spared a smile for her helper, the perfect picture of a victorious if a little bit battered heroine, stronger for her ability to overcome adversity.

Gibbs nearly applauded her performance. No way had Tony, who was so reluctant to initiate body contact with strangers, tried to rape someone he did not like in a building full of law enforcement officers and people who worked for the military. Proving it would be the hard part.

He went over to check that Tony hadn't been treated too roughly. He carefully examined the bloody furrows on Tony's cheek, feeling fury collect in his gut with every drop of blood that welled up. “Jacobs, Huigen, let go of him.”

They reluctantly did it but kept close.

Before Gibbs could formulate a strategy Tony spoke up. “Boss, I-”

“Shut up, we don't want to hear you speak.” The Director harshly interrupted him.

Tony threw his head back and pressed his lips together, still not showing despair.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

His Feline put one of his hands in his pants pocket and both of his guards reacted to the perceived threat and tried to grab him again, only to take a step back when the sound of a voice came out of his pocket, not a weapon. Tony pulled his hand out, holding one of the small recording devices field agents used when interviewing someone. As soon as it was fully out, the voice was more easily understandable, every word as if it was spoken that moment, not recorded. And, considering that they had listened to her just moments ago, there was no way to deny who it belonged to.

'...no surveillance in this room, just the hallway. Who will they believe? Me, the Director of a Federal Agency or someone who isn't even fully human....'

Everyone in the room seemed to take a deep breath at the same time and the air changed.

“Switch that off, at once!” Sheppard demanded loud enough to cover some of the recording but of course Tony had no reason to obey her.

'... evening I will sip some god awful Bourbon Jethro will serve me in one of his mason jars, to calm my nerves. I will finally be able to show how upset I am, I can't at the office, here I have to be strong, and we will kiss and... your ears aren't worthy of the rest. You, you will be waiting in some cell to be put down...'

“Shut that crap off, Tony.”

Him the Feline obeyed immediately.

The Director sneered and put on the jacket properly, smoothed down an imaginary wrinkle and then coldly looked around. “What are you staring at, go back to work.”

Half a dozen uncertain faces reluctantly turned to Gibbs. He couldn't fault them for not knowing if they should obey her, it was not every day they witnessed their director trying to frame someone for rape. He nodded and waited while they left. He could hear them talking softly amongst each other. The only ones left in the room were his team and Agent Paccí.

“Now what?” The red-haired woman asked them faux sweetly.

Gibbs spared an approving nod for Tony who in turn took a deep breath and then took up position half behind his boss, handing him the recorder on his way past.

“Special Agent Paccí, this is very unfortunate but you will help me clear this up fully.” Sheppard now appeared as calm as could be, as if she was only facing a minor disciplinary snafu.

“Madam?” Paccì asked calmly in return, leaving off the official title.

It couldn't have gone unnoticed by Sheppard but she ignored it. “This is clearly a set up by Special Agent Gibbs, I fear that he isn't willing to take orders from someone who was once his subordinate and has now tried to have me removed from office. I don't know how they produced that false recording, Miss Sciuto might have helped them so we will ask our colleagues at the FBI for forensic assistance,” she calmly stated. “Take the recorder from him for now, it will be logged as evidence.”

Oh yes, the queen was back, replacing the lunatic, and in full swing again. This was the woman he had met a decade ago and admired for her skills but that didn't mean that Gibbs didn't feel, for the first time in his life, the violent urge to strangle a female. Nobody who tried to not only besmirch his integrity but also tried to harm someone that was his would walk away unpunished.

Paccí shared a look with Gibbs and slowly shook his head, then politely asked one of agents who had taken up position outside to call for his own team and to bring him some evidence bags and a camera.

Sheppard tilted her head, crossed her arms across her chest and looked at the silent pair at the other end of the room, a faint smile on her face.

Gibbs could guess that she thought that, after having lost this particular battle, she was prepared to cut her losses. It would still win her a war, a different one she had been fighting to begin with.

Members of Paccí's team slowly filtered in, carrying the tools of their trade but looking decidedly uncomfortable. Cait and Tim were ordered to wait outside. Paccí told one agent to film everything that was happening here and another one to check Tony's hands, photograph them and take skin samples and then he gave one of the evidence bags to the sole female member of his team and calmly asked Sheppard to go with her to be processed, especially her blouse.

That faint smile grew forced. “I beg your pardon?”

“Required procedure, Miss Sheppard.”

“Director Sheppard.” She corrected him sharply.

“You are part of an active investigation now, so you are not my superior until I can hand this over to the FBI. I just want to preserve every speck of evidence. We don't want it to get lost or degrade too much to be used, do we? It will be interesting to see if we find traces of Tony's DNA on the edges of the blouse's tears.” Paccí said and then turned to Tony. “For the record have you, Feline Tony, at any time today, touched Jennifer Sheppard?”

“No, not even when she clawed my face.” Tony firmly said.

“Why would he have that device with him if not to set me up?” Sheppard insisted again.

Tony faced her. “Because some people in this agency expressed undue attention I neither encouraged nor asked for in the first place. They seem to see me as something interesting to try out and I know the old adage about suitors scorned and tried to secure myself against exactly this possible accusation. Special Agent Timothy McGee lent me one of his recorders.”

Someone beside Sheppard and that clerk in the head had tried to corner Tony? Gibbs didn't know if he should be furious about the young man not confiding in him or proud about his resourcefulness. They would have done their best to clear this ugly little plot up but that recording bought them, if not the assistance then at least the benefit of the doubt of the other NCIS personnel.

“Much ado about nothing.” Sheppard sighed. “I'll wait for the FBI, don't bother, Special Agent Chance.”

“One minute ago it wasn't nothing,” Gibbs commented and calmly weathered her poisonous glare as he deliberately took one of the paper towels out of Paccí's hands to tenderly wipe away the blood that was still running down Tony's neck. Facial wounds were like head wounds, they bled like the devil. He felt how the young man pressed himself against his touch, just a little bit.

Sheppard bristled like an angry cat - insulting to cats everywhere - and threw her hands up in exasperation. “Oh, come on, what do you think will happen? I'll tell you: nothing. You'll be ordered to forget this ever occured and some good spiel about testing the agency's response to internal tension will be spread around with a commendation in the file of everyone who reacted 'correctly'.”

“Madam, please take into account that everything you say can be used against you and you should really wait until your lawyer arrives.” Special Agent Chance neutrally reminded the woman but it only made Sheppard wave her hand dismissively.

“They won't risk me making a big fuss about this and they won't fire the first female director of a federal agency after only a few months in office. Get real.”

“You just forgot one detail, Miss Sheppard.” Gibbs informed her without even bothering to give her his full attention. Paccí had personally swept the claw marks for evidence and after he finished Gibbs had snatched the first aid kit out of the tool bag and was in the middle of applying some gauze and bandages. “It won't be your good friends at the FBI who will handle this, but a side branch of the Secret Service. Yeah, we will be asked to keep our mouths shut but you, you'll be gone so it doesn't matter.”

“You aren't making sense.”

Gibbs shared a smile with Tony. “Feline laws, Sheppard. Nobody will want to touch this story, it's too hot. If you make a fuss they'll sue you 'til kingdom come and all of it will happen in closed court. Paccí, here's a phone number. He's officially affiliated with Feline matters and will know what to do. May we leave? I want to take Tony to Ducky; he really shouldn't risk lasting scars from this ugly scene.”

His fellow team leader nodded and took the card with Major Williams' contact details. “Got everything, you are both free to go. I trust you won't leave the country.”

“Why would we?” Gibbs didn't spare their hopefully soon to be ex-Director any more attention as he led the way out of the room, just sent a prayer to whoever might look kindly on honorable Special Agents to make sure that their next director would not only have the needed skills to lead them but that they wouldn't be at all interested in him or Tony personally.

“Hey Gibbs!” Paccí stuck his head out of the damn copy room.

“What now?” Gibbs growled and without thinking about it, put himself between the other man and Tony. He'd had enough today, really.

“You know that I met two of your ex-wives and now Sheppard? Word to the wise: avoid red-heads in the future, really, it's better for everyone involved.”

Gibbs flipped him the bird.

 

.-#-.

 

The whole team gathered in autopsy.

Ducky had removed the improvised bandage first thing and was now cleaning the deep furrows. Tony was sitting on one of the metal tables, Gibbs standing behind him, not touching but as close as possible.

Any other day he would have enjoyed seeing his people rally to protect one of their own today it gave him a headache and all he wanted to do was take Tony and go home but that wasn't possible for now. As their leader it was his duty to keep them together and keep watch over his people until he got word that the threat had been removed.

Cait and Abby were loudly and creatively discussing what they wanted to do to Madam Director, who not only had dared to attack a friend but who also gave females in positions of power a bad name. Both of them were skilled and determined enough to try for some revenge and it could only end badly, no matter how much Abs insisted that she knew how to cover her tracks. Sheppard accusing her of being 'in on the plot' hadn't helped.

It got really scary when the usually genteel and friendly Medical Examiner began to recite one of his infamous stories, talking about how traitors to the tribe were punished in a particular Brazilian jungle commune. Poor McGee, who guarded the door, looked like he might get ill. Fire ants, honey and ropes were not a good combination. All the while Ducky's fingers couldn't have been more gentle while applying little butterfly strips to Tony's wounds.

“You know boss,” Tony whispered when Ducky went to get more water and towels for him to clean up, “if I didn't know that they really would have put me down like a rabid dog I could feel sorry for her.”

Cait and Abby stopped their rant. “We wouldn't have let them! None of us would have believed her,” the female agent exclaimed and patted him on the shoulder. “You are a menace but you would never do that.”

“I wouldn't have taken her word over yours either, Tony!” McGee added.

Abby rolled her eyes. “Bah, why would you want her when you have the Bossman?”

“Abs!” Gibbs tried to reign her in.

Abby rolled her eyes heavenward. “You two are so clueless.”

Tony looked from one to the other and squirmed but there was a bright, if tired smile on his face.

“Uhm, Tony?” Abby tugged at her pigtails.

“Hm?”

“This is the wrong time to ask you more questions, is it?”

 

.-#-.

 

“Are we really clueless?” Tony yawned and stretched out more fully. He kept the damaged side of his face carefully away from the pillow. They had, without discussing it, chosen the master bedroom this evening.

Jethro hummed and put a little more salve on his hands. He would have to buy another pot after the holidays were over. “After three ex-wives I can tell you that taking our time isn't a mistake.” His fingers brushed against the collar around Tony's neck. He would love nothing more than to remove it but, even if Hayes had smoothed a lot of issues, some rules would remain and one of them was that Tony had to have his tag with him at all times so he could identify himself as a properly owned Feline and not get dragged off by some over enthusiastic 'finder'.

“Sit up, I have something for you.”

Jethro wiped his hands and then stood up to fetch something he had prepared this morning. He put the little bag into Tony's right hand and closed his fingers around it.

“I know, it isn't the best Christmas present and I don't want you to assign it any symbolic ownership ritual, like a damn boy giving his house cat a collar and bell but you can't wear your current one at work. The winding it around your neck multiple times negates the break link.” Gibbs couldn't remember how long it had been since he was last this nervous. One particular occasion sprung to mind but he shoved it ruthlessly back down. And should he have chosen differently, would it be seen as him being a miser, not buying something in a precious metal to match the tag? The papers for their stint at FLETC, and his intention to start a training schedule for Tony as soon as possible would serve as his real Christmas gift tomorrow.

Tony was still as a statue and the way he looked down made it impossible to see his eyes. He was holding the simple linen bag, old with wear, and on it lay a necklace. “This looks exactly like the chains that hold real military dog tags.

“They held mine.” Gibbs acknowledged and waited.

“And Abby tells me you never do anything you don't mean or want to.” Tony said slowly and then raised his hands, removed his precious platinum collar, lay it aside, and put the tag on the old, simple chain. He took the two steps that separated him in space from the waiting Gibbs. “Girlish of me, but would you do the honors? And... thank you.”

The silver haired man deftly closed the simple mechanism and drapped the chain around Tony's neck. The tag came to rest over his heart. He would have to purchase one of the plastic chain covers at the military surplus store so the ball-links wouldn't hopelessly tangle with the stripe of fur in the man's neck. His old collar had been smooth for a reason.

When he was done he didn't know what to do now.

“Gibbs... Jethro. Look at me.” The way his first name, for the first time, fell from those sensual lips made the silver haired man look up sharply.

“You overdo it by trying to not touch on the ownership issue. That's considerate of you but ...” Tony collected his thoughts and then went on. “I told you how rare you are. You asked me for permission before choosing me that day. I could have shook my head no. I could have walked away. And I chose again when I morphed for you. Yeah, there's more legal power on your side than there is on mine, much more, and that will never change, but we both know how unlikely it is that you will ever abuse me. Run me ragged at the office, yes. Hit me, abuse me? Hell, no.”

This was important and Jethro gave all of his attention to what Tony was telling him, searched the green eyes that were looking at him imploringly for any sign that this was really Tony, the man speaking and not the slave. Even the thought of raising a hand against Tony made Jethro flinch. “I would never.” Jethro whispered harshly.

“And that's why I could never trust anyone more than I trust you. I don't have to search for a special someone. I already have someone as special as they come, if you want me? Helps that I find you attractive. Don't know if this is love but it is more than I ever felt for anyone else.”

It must have cost the younger man a lot to say those words aloud and open himself up for rejection. They warmed Jethro's heart though and he didn't lose time by keeping Tony waiting without an answer. “I don't know either. It feels different from the other times I was in a relationship. Not less, just different.”

Tony hesitantly touched him on the shoulder, just a brush of his finger tips. “But you want to try?”

Jethro bent forward, took a deep breath. Now that he had permission he opened all his senses up. His own soap on Tony's skin, mixed with the unique musk of the man, made a part of him growl in satisfaction. The warm, soft skin he remembered would not only feel marvelous under his hands again but it would also keep him warm in the winter nights to come. He didn't know how Tony would taste. Yet.

But it was the strong, courageous heart under all that attractive skin and bone, the intelligent brain that had held out so long, that no-one could touch without consent, that was what made Jethro step forward, his arms open in invitation. Once Tony took that step, he would be his, independent of anything any official paper said. He knew himself, he had gone through parts of this before. He would be protective and possessive as hell. It didn't matter that people who wouldn't know the difference saw it as ownership instead of partnership. Leroy Jethro Gibbs did and Anthony Gibbs would as well and that was all that mattered.

Tony stepped closer and Jethro welcomed him in his personal space, wound his arms around him, holding him securely. At first they just stood there, each soaking in the presence of the other. “Let's... try.” Tony said and pressed his lips against Jethro's. Not open, wet, demanding and hungry but soft and closemouthed, gliding. Not an invasion but careful exploration with the option to back off any second if anything he did was unwanted.

It wasn't. At all.

At one point Tony took one of Jethro's hands, intertwined their fingers and brought them up to the fur in his neck. “You're allowed to touch me there, not just during a massage. I won't think it's the fur that gives you the thrill. But if it adds to it, why not use what won't go away?”

So his reluctance to show any sensual interest in the areas that defined Tony as different hadn't gone unnoticed by the younger man. Jethro had taken too long to think it through: Tony pressed back against his fingers and when Jethro curled them into the soft mass of fur he was rewarded with a deep purr and a happy smile.

They hadn't graduated to touching below the waist and everything they did was cautious, slow. Maybe he had been touch starved as well, Tony wasn't the only one pressing against every touch, not wanting it to end and enjoying the wonder of being allowed to indulge was greater than the urge to reach orgasm. They would graduate to that, eventually. Not tonight, not tomorrow either. But someday.

Maybe they would never do much more than what they had worked out for now between them. Jethro didn't care. He pressed a tender kiss against Tony's temple and couldn't help but smile when his Feline nuzzled contently against his neck in reaction. This was companionship, warmth, safety and love. He had never thought he would have this again.

Maybe he should send a real letter of thanks to the President.

Jehtro slipped into sleep, his arms and dreams filled with the soft fur, warm eyes and brave heart of his companion.

 

.-#-.

 

Tony sleepily rubbed his face against Jethro's chest, revelling in how the short, slightly scratchy gray hairs on it tickled his skin. Silly man, worrying for nothing but that was his nature, trying to do the right thing and defending people who could not do it themselves. He got up on one elbow and smiled at his heart's owner, pressed a featherlight kiss, more a peck, that wouldn't wake him, against the place over where Jethro's was beating.

Jethro mumbled something and his nose twitched. Tony snuggled down again.

Someday, when the whole owner/slave issue wasn't as immediate anymore, he would have to share one of the Universal Truths of reality with him.

They might think they did, but no human owned a REAL cat. If the human was worthy and lucky a cat sometimes would deign to own them instead.

 

The End.


End file.
